Time Loves to Fly: Tempus Amat Volare
by stella8h8chang
Summary: Ever wondered about magic 100 years ago? Read on if you want mystery, philosophy, love, poetry and unforgettable original characters in epic proportions! In Ch30, explore the very end of Grindelwald's boyhood, and the beginnings of his dark regime.
1. Prologue: Harry

_Salvete Omnes/Dear All: As promised, here is my bit for NaNoWriMo 2007, which follows 7 wizards and witches born in the 1880s._

**Disclaimer: I write to praise, not to profit.**

_Praises be to JK Rowling, none of whose characters I own, to the Goo Goo Dolls, Josh Groban and the cast of "Wicked" for serenading me during the month of November, and to Jarrah Coffees for helping me pull two all-nighters to get my last 20-odd thousand out in two days!_

**WARNING: **

_This fanfiction contains SPOILERS for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and all pre-existing canon, including and especially chocolate frog cards. Many chapters also have SLASH, and all chapters have some degree of nerdiness. _

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_**Prologue, by Harry**_

Harry Potter had decided to spend the eve of his eighteenth birthday in a very odd way indeed. Clutching a large, silver picture frame, he stood on a spiral staircase, made of stone, which was slowly revolving, spiralling its way to the top under the influence of some medieval magic. At that moment, Harry Potter was on his way to one of the towers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

At the top of the stairs was a door of oak with a single griffon-shaped door-knocker as its ornament. But there was no need to use it; Harry was sure there would be no one present. Not only was it the summer holidays, it was also the dead of night. He pushed open the door unhesitatingly.

Harry guided the picture into the very familiar circular room with a gentle motion of his wand hand. With a firm flick he directed the sleeping portrait of Severus Snape, the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, up onto the wall. Snape hardly stirred, which was a pleasant surprise, since portraits in the magical world could talk and move.

He wandered around the room for a few minutes, looking – not touching – the delicate instruments, which Snape had evidently taken pains to protect from the pillaging hands of the last Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Harry paused, catching sight of a trunk underneath Snape's desk, labelled "Property of Albus Dumbledore", and respectfully padlocked shut. The slightest shiver scuttled down his spine as he brushed a year's worth of dust away. Upon a closer inspection, the wood had not only been engraved with the name of its owner – the trunk was adorned with countless shallower scratches. The sign of the Deathly Hallows, for starters. The letters, "AD4GG" – "_Albus Dumbledore for the Greater Good_," Harry supposed it meant. But what brought both bewilderment and moisture to his eyes was the same line from Kendra and Ariana's headstone:

_Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also._

He couldn't believe it had been just over a year since Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster during Harry's first six years of school, had passed away. Having wiped his hand across his eyes, Harry continued to examine the trunk. However, it gave a definite little shudder, and the lock simply melted away. Harry recalled the last time he had wandered into one of Dumbledore's unlocked possessions – the Pensieve cabinet.

_Curiosity is not a sin, Harry…_

With an upward glance at Dumbledore's portrait, snoozing peacefully in his radiant frame, Harry grasped the lid of the trunk with two hands, and gently eased it open, wondering how many more secrets it could possibly contain, and mindful of Professor Binns' words in second year.

_Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't, Miss Pennyfeather…I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore…_

In downright dissimilarity to his own school trunk, Dumbledore's was the epitome of neatness. On the right-hand side was a small stack of clothes, the most visible of which were some knitted socks, a Gryffindor scarf, something made of purple velvet and a sheet of shiny silk, which reflected the photograph on the inside of the lid of a number of young witches and wizards in Hogwarts robes, with gold lettering reading "Office Bearers, 1899". In the middle of the first row was Dumbledore, his nose still long and unbroken, tall and thin, though not quite as thin as the little black-haired girl in Ravenclaw robes standing on his right.

On his other side was a girl with brown hair, shorter than Dumbledore's, and the arm of a Hufflepuff boy around her shoulders. At that end of the row was a Hufflepuff girl. Harry smiled to himself as he noticed that the Slytherins had placed themselves on the opposite end of the photo, with three Ravenclaws between them and the Gryffindors. The other Ravenclaw girl – for there were two of them altogether, both raven-haired – blew a kiss at him – but this one had a majestic beauty about her, from her amber-coloured eyes to her little white hands. The names under the picture all seemed intriguingly familiar.

_Front Row (Seventh-years): Hazel Rookwood, Phineas Black, Libatius Borage, Hesper Starky, Catherine Carlton, Albus Dumbledore, Delta Hitchens, Harvey Ridgebit, Phyllida Spore__…_

As far as Harry could see, the remainder of the trunk space was filled by books. Several had been tied together with a large satin, sky-blue ribbon. He loosened the bow and pulled out the topmost volume. It clearly bore the marks of being loved; bound with what might once have been metallic. Some of the pages were thicker than others, being weighted down by photographs which had been Spellotaped in. Harry recognised Rita and Bathilda's picture, as well as several others featuring that fateful pair – Dumbledore and Grindelwald, the two teenagers with the grand dreams. On the back inside cover of the book, a poem had been written:

_As __once more __great evils in the world arise  
Three children s__hall meet under darkening skies  
Of which two are __wizards, and one a witch  
One of modest means, __two __very rich  
An orphan, a__n outcast __and a muggle-born  
Those whom greatness seems odd to __ador__n  
One lanky, lo__ng-nosed, with a deep red mane  
Another whose __wild __locks hide a brilliant brain__  
The last is dark-haired, and as thin as a shadow  
__Worthy of wielding all three Deathly Hallows__  
With w__ands fashioned from willow, holly and vine wood__  
The three __work in harmony for a greater good  
__Uniting unicorn, dragon and phoenix all together__  
With hair of tail, string of heart, and one tail feather__  
Two are prefects, one is rebellious__  
A trio lion-hearted, loyal and zealous__  
Bound by hope, love, faith and absolution__  
__A new age of magic rests on their resolution_

"_That's us_, Harry realised instantly. _It's Ron, Hermione and me._ But his eyes flickered to the adjacent page. _But why is there an arrow pointing over there?_

Harry's attention had not been captured at first because this picture did not move. The entire page had been filled by a coloured-pencil sketch of three people: Grindelwald, Dumbledore, and the black-haired girl who had been standing next to Dumbledore in the prefects' photograph, and reminded Harry of someone he had seen at a distance when he was very young.

The little girl's hands were resting on Grindelwald's shoulders, and his arms were linked under her knees, giving her a piggyback. Dumbledore was on the ground, pretending to be supporting the blonde boy, with his arms around Grindelwald's thighs.

As if it couldn't get any more surreal, in the corner was the caption, "31st of July, 1899 _– _Dory's Eighteenth". It was unbelievable, but somehow, exactly ninety-nine years to this day, Dumbledore must have been exactly the same age as him.

_And now, Harry, let us step out into the night and pursue that flighty temptress, adventure. _

He shut his eyes and tried to imagine the three young people running off into the sunset, or sunrise, just as he, Ron and Hermione had what felt like a million years ago.

* * *

**A/N: At the end of every chapter I will be singing-for-my-reviews-supper via parody:**

_**The Sound of Music: Reviews Are My Favourite Things**  
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens,  
Inboxes full of reviews that've been written  
Knowing the joy that my chapters can bring  
These are a few of my favourite things!_


	2. Chapter 1: Delta: Strangers in Black

**A/N: **This was one of the funnest chapters to write; it poured out of me in the space of a day in November, because I love Delta so much. I hope you will too.

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**Chapter 1: Strangers in Black, by Delta**

_You are walking down the train corridor; you haven't found a compartment yet, and you feel so very small and vulnerable, dragging your large trunk behind you, clutching to your breast the copy of "The Tales of Beedle the Bard". It is just about the only heirloom that comes from your mother's side of the family. She gave it to you on your eleventh birthday – as a reminder that even if you're old enough to go to Hogwarts – you are never too old for a good story. Like any child you loved hearing stories of Hogwarts – of learning to do magic beyond making flowers open and close, or making your hair grow overnight. __The platform has delighted you, with hundreds of wizards and witches. A boy with a spider as big as your hand. A girl with eyes the colour of the sky. A man who has tried to dress himself in muggle clothes, putting a women's blouse with bloated sleeves under a pair of suspenders. But now the train is on its way. _

_Coming down the corridor are two very tall boys. They both are powerfully built, with big hands and feet, and hair as black as coal. They move fast._

_"So you're Isla's bastard," the bigger of the two says._

_You freeze, as if a total body-bind has just been cast on you._

_"It's either a really pansy boy, or a really ugly girl," he mutters to the smaller boy, in French._

_"Hey!" you say. "I know what you said!"_

_"Don't you call me, 'hey', you mongrel," the big boy keeps going. "It's Sirius Black to you. And this is my brother Phineas."_

_Phineas attempts a smile which, although it could be interpreted as apologetic, just makes you crosser._

_"Cousin Sirius," you say._

_"We're no cousins of yours. You keep well away from us and our Slytherin friends. And take a message back to your mother and her muggle scum. This," he snatches the book from your hands. "Belongs in _our_ family."_

_Damn not being "toujours pur", you think. The two of them push past you, leaving you on the verge of tears. But you won't show it, you won't let them see, you won't let yourself be bullied and beaten. Instead, you push the door of the nearest compartment open so hard it nearly falls off its hinges. It's not __empty__, but it almost is. There __is only one small boy__ in there, and __he looks __harmless__, reading a book_

_"Do you mind?" you ask timidly. "Everywhere else is full."_

_The boy with the book __beams __at you, his blue eyes sparkling. "Of course not – come on in!"_

_You notice he has a bit of a mark on his nose. "What happened there? Nosebleed?"_

_He doesn't mind that you're pointing, or staring; he calmly replies, "A few boys thought they'd teach somebody a lesson when they found out he was substantially less of a muggle-hater than my father apparently is…so they tried to break my nose…"_

_The boy is referring to Percival Dumbledore, who was locked up in Azkaban for life a year ago. Everyone knows; it was all over the papers. And this boy may well grow up to be as handsome as his father, with his similar bright eyes and hair, even if he's a little too lanky now._

_"…but I'm all right," he says nonchalantly. "A charming teacher by the name of Professor McValley happened to step in and mend everything, including my blood-streaked visage." _

**D.R.H.**

Two years on, Delta had acquired another three inches of height and a tigerish boldness about her, and when she slid open the door of the compartment on her first day as a third-year, she was flanked by loyal boys of her own.

"Oh," she said, seeing that the compartment already had two occupants. "Sorry…never mind…"

"No, it's all right," said a dreamy voice from a pair of eyes peeping over a page. "There's plenty of room."

Delta plonked herself down next to the other occupant; a girl with glossy black ringlets and dressed in a fashionable green dress that brought out her catlike eyes.

"Hullo, I'm Delta. Delta Hitchens," she said, holding out her hand, and hoping that the pretty girl was not a pureblood fanatic like her Black cousins. "I think I've seen you before, you're in third-year, in Ravenclaw, is that right?"

"And you are…a third-year Gryffindor…and you play Chaser on the Quidditch team, is that correct?" the girl asked Delta. "I'm Hesper Starky." Her eyes flickered to Delta's male companions, who had settled opposite, whispering indiscernibly as mice.

"And this is Elphias Doge – and Albus Dumbledore – all fellow third-year Gryffindors," she added. Elphias was a light-haired boy with a small, heart-shaped face, whose mouth twitched a little as he smiled weakly, because he was conscious of his crooked teeth. Albus, a tall boy with rich, red hair, came over and shook Hesper's hand.

There was the sound of a book being snapped close as a small figure, curled up on the opposite window seat of the compartment, dropped her former entertainment and gazed out the window, her chin resting on the back of her knuckles. Delta assumed it must be Hesper's younger sister, for her hair was just as dark, and her arms were just about as pale. But she was slight in an unearthly way, she wore her hair in pigtails, which made her look half her age, and the part of her which Delta could see was covered with weeping red pustules.

_Spattergroit scars_, Delta thought, feeling a rush of sympathy. Delta had been lucky; she'd inherited her father's luck when it came to health.

"I'm Cathy Carlton," the child said, without looking away from the window. "Third-year Ravenclaw."

She didn't seem particularly conversational, so Delta ambushed Hesper instead. "What subjects are you picking up this year?"

"Just Runes and Divination," said Hesper. "Cathy's taking three though – Runes, Lexicology and Arithmancy."

"Arithmancy!" Joy shot through Delta. "And I was beginning to think I would be alone…the only girl!"

"No, there are a few other Ravenclaw girls doing it. Athena definitely is too, and Zelda might be."

"Oh, that's good to know," said Delta. "My mother kept saying how unladylike Arithmancy is, she kept telling me to take Divination. No offence to Divination of course. But I always wanted to try Arithmancy. And anyway, I kept telling her that it's a bit more ladylike than Care of Magical Creatures. Only that turned out to have more girls. Half the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs have gone to Twonk's classes with the intention of petting unicorns all day. Hope the good Professor brings them some flobberworms. What was your mother like, Cathy?"

"I'm muggle-born," said Cathy, stroking the childish fringe over her forehead.

"Oh that's great! I mean, I'm half-blood too, can understand where you're coming from. A bit. Muggle father, witch mother. And I should've noticed earlier. No funny name. What was my mother thinking…I couldn't even be something like 'Diana' or 'Denise' or 'Doris'. It had to be Delta. Alpha, beta, gamma, delta. But it could've been worse."

"This is Greek and how they spelt her," Cathy rhymed. "My brother taught me Greek," she explained. "But I like Latin better."

Delta could deal with eccentrics better than the aloof; her best friends were Albus, who virtually slept with textbooks, and Elphias, who epitomised the runt of the litter. She continued. "Arithmancy, Runes and Lex – that's the same combination as me! Silly me, I didn't tell you what I was taking earlier. My mother thinks I'm taking too many subjects. And it's the same as Albus. Almost the same as Elphias – he's not doing Lex though. But I think you're doing the same as that Slytherin boy – Phineas? Can you believe it, he wanted to take Muggle Studies as well? Obviously his parents didn't approve. Lovely Slytherins. And would you believe it, he's my cousin as well, he and his brother Sirius? Hope you don't look at me in a different light now!"

Cathy shifted, so that her body faced Delta, although her head remained resolutely staring out the window. "It doesn't matter – I don't know those boys."

Delta chuckled, indicating Albus and Elphias again. "Boys are so lovely, loud and boisterous, aren't they?"

If Cathy had any opinion, she decided to encrypt it in the notes of Moonlight Sonata, which she began to hum, as she absent-mindedly picked at a scab. Hesper reached forward and slapped her lightly. "Stop picking at your face – you'll only make your skin scar."

"Yes, mother," said Cathy brightly.

Delta got up and moved towards the window – there _had_ to be something positively riveting out there, and she was going to get a closer look at Cathy, even if she wouldn't give it to her.

**D.R.H.**

Delta was in an uplifted mood when she began re-postering her section of dormitory wall. First there was Bridget Wenlock, the arithmancer who had discovered the magical properties of the number seven, followed by Leopoldina Smethwyck, the first witch to be a Quidditch referee, Artemisia Lufkin, the first witch to be Minister of Magic, and in prime position, the Holyhead Harpies, the Welsh Quidditch team that had only ever admitted female players.

Having unpacked the images of the smiling and waving witches and fixed them up with Temporary Sticking Charms, Delta bounced down the stairs to the common room.

"When are Quidditch trials coming up?" she asked Mackenzie Macdonald, who had captained the Gryffindor team last year.

"Saturday week two, if we can manage it" was his reply. "I hope we get you and Billie back trying out, Bobbie! We were so close in that last match against Slytherin…"

_Slytherin_

The word leapt upon her like a giant spider, making her skin crawl. "Oh – don't you worry about that – we're going to pay them back this year for it," Delta said, conjuring up a mental image of her beating up Phineas and Sirius with a giant broomstick.

"You know what I'm really worried about though," said Mackenzie, "What's with this 'streaming' thing they brought up at the Feast? Separating classes regardless of House – and basing it all on our exams, which we only get one shot at anyway? I hope this doesn't affect some people's decisions when it comes to playing Quidditch this year or not. I don't want to lose good players just because they've been terrified by their teachers' threats"

"Yes, and Ravenclaw will have a totally unfair advantage, on account of they can blitz their exams with less study than us," said Delta, raising her voice. "Though we have Albus to tutor us, don't we?" she clucked her tongue at the boys in the fireplace.

"Yes, yes," said Albus, although she wasn't sure if he had really heard her, as Elphias patted him lightly on the back and he did not move an inch.

"Albus," she said in a low voice, approaching him. "How did you find _Pender's Arithmancy_? I could hardly understand it. You know what my parents are like – they bought me every book as soon as I showed them the booklist, and I felt obligated to read them –"

"Don't worry," he said, "Pender covers a lot of material we don't need to know; every time he puts up the heading 'Extension' it means he's going beytond the syllabus. Besides – isn't Arithmancy one of those subjects which cannot be learnt from a textbook? You need lots of practice and experience at recognising problems. Anyone can do it."

"Oh, Albus, modest as always," wheezed Elphias.

"At least we don't have it until Thursday," said Delta. "First we have to survive Cato in Runes, I hear you really don't want to get on her bad side, and then there's McValley in LexLit, he's something of a mystery, that one."

**D.R.H.**

They had settled into their usual places in the classroom when Professor McValley strolled in, wearing jet-black robes and whistling Tchaikovsky. He was not an exceptionally tall man, but something about his build and his tone of voice conveyed the air of someone who was not afraid of anything, and was not afraid to say so. And although his hair was short and grey, Delta got the impression that he might have been a very handsome man in his youth. The class were wholly hushed by the notes of the 1812 Overture.

"What do you say, we rearrange the desks to make them a bit friendlier?" he asked, eyeing the stern rows of desks in front of him. "So that we can all get to know each other a bit more easily. He walked to the blackboard and drew a diagram for them. "Blocks of six desks, please, in a horseshoe-shape. Welcome to Literature and Lexicology, affectionately known as LexLit, but more often as simply 'Lexicology', where we do our utmost best to get into the heads of the great philosophers of the witching and wizarding world."

Delta joined desks with Albus, two Ravenclaw girls who also took Arithmancy, and two Hufflepuff boys.

"Has everybody got a scrap of parchment?" there was a chorus of general agreement. "Well then," continued McValley, "everyone write five things about themselves – four that are true, and one that isn't, then swap with the person next to you and try to guess each other's fabrications, introducing your partner to the group."

Albus and Delta exchanged raised eyebrows. _This is such a waste of time_, they agreed. Delta wrote:

_1.__I support the Holyhead Harpies  
2.__I like chocolate  
3.__My birthday is in March  
4.__I am half-French  
5.__I am not an only child _

They then exchanged notes. Albus' read

_1.__At least one statement on this parchment is true.  
2.__At least one statement on this parchment is false.  
3.__At least two statements on this parchment are true.  
4.__At least two statements on this parchment are false.  
5.__At least three statements on this parchment are true._

She wrinkled her own nose, and pretended to slap Albus across his nose. "This is Albus, and he likes stupid head games," she announced to the group.

The Hufflepuff boy sitting next to Delta ignored her. "This is Artemis, who takes Divination, likes dolphins, keeps a pet puffskein called Sunflower and has four older brothers, but was not born on a train. He was born on a boat."

Artemis, who had striking light blonde hair, needed no cues. "Harvey loves dragons, has an Oakshaft broomstick, can read and write Latin and takes Care of Magical Creatures but does not play the piano – he plays the violin."

"Hi Harvey," said Delta. "I know you – you're a great Chaser."

It was now Cathy and her companion's turn. "This is Athena," said Cathy, introducing the girl wearing grey spectacles and a disinterested expression, "And her favourite subject is Transfiguration, not Potions. Also she was named after the Greek Goddess of wisdom, she has been wearing glasses since she was seven and her mother was in Ravenclaw."

"This is Cathy – she loves to draw, is fluent in six languages, is fond of her piano…"

"You play the piano? Really? Me too. What do you play?" Albus interrupted.

"Anything," said Cathy. "I quite like Chopin though."

"The Waltzes? Or the Etudes?"

"The Nocturnes actually."

"That's why you like Moonlight."

"Yes. What about you?"

"I like Beethoven too, but not as much as Mozart."

"_Anyway_," Athena rolled her eyes, "Cathy also has an older brother…but she doesn't like Quidditch."

"WHAT?!" Delta shouted, unable to believe that such a great person like Cathy could be so tasteless, which caused McValley to sweep over in their direction.

"Never really understood it," Cathy shrugged, flicking her loose hair behind her. _She should wear her hair out more often,_ thought Delta_, I don't mean to be mean, but it's virtually her only beauty. _"Anyway, I want to hear more about you, Delta."

Albus cleared his throat. "This is Delta – she supports the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team, likes chocolate, is an only child, is half-French and her birthday isn't in March…"

"My birthday IS in March, my dear boy. I have spoken French for as long as I remember but I am by no means half-French."

Cathy cut in, "I'm half-French." She began singing, "_V'là l'bon vent, v'là l'joli vent_…"

"_I_ am more like one percent French," Delta sharply corrected, thinking of her mother's inbred family tree. "Now you watch that – girls and boys – because that's the first and last time Albus will ever get something wrong in this class."

Albus blushed.

"That's a nice touch on the Liar Paradox," interrupted McValley, neatly saving Albus.

"Sorry?" asked Delta.

"The Greek philosopher Eubulides of Miletus – who came up with paradoxical statements like 'this sentence is false', which I'm sure you've all heard. No? Well then – how about you look that up for us before the next class and tell us about it? Self-directed learning!! You see I believe that Hogwarts has been spoon-feeding you information far too much; in this class you are going to learn to THINK for YOURSELVES! And what's more, you are going to learn to learn collaboratively – to share knowledge, instead of hoarding it for exams.

"Which is why I want you, in your groups of tables, to collaboratively write a newspaper by the week before Easter. This means you will have to meet up to work together in your own time! Not necessarily _Daily-Prophet_ style, I'm hoping for something more along the lines of _Transfiguration Today_…and we will publish the papers with their articles under different pseudonyms, then exchange them, evaluate each others' work and then talk about what we have learnt from the whole process. Now how does everybody feel about that?"

* * *

_**KT Tunstall – Suddenly I See Reviews**  
Delta's face is a map of the world, is a map of the world,  
You can see she's a beautiful girl, she's a beautiful girl,  
She's funny and she's clever and she's not afraid to fight  
Writers who portray her feel her story pouring out  
Really fast (just as well for NaNo!)  
She holds them all enchanted in her grasp…_

_Suddenly I see,  
This is what I want to be!  
Suddenly I see,  
Writing means so very much to me!  
McValley owes a lot,  
To the film "Dead Poets Society"  
Suddenly I see,  
That reviews mean the world to little me!_


	3. Chapter 2: Delta: Shades of Grey

**Happy Full Moon and Thank You to:**

**1.** **ShadowMoonDancer**, who has added _Tempus_ as a favourite. I feel honoured and deeply grateful.  
**2.** The **4 readers **who have placed _Tempus_ on their alerts. Your support is invaluable.

So without any further ado, let me present...

* * *

**Chapter 2: Shades of Grey, by Delta**

_"Shades of grey," you say, rather disgruntledly, looking at something which McValley apparently wrote. _

_"The myth of dichotomy," Albus continues aloud. "Why things are not always White and…and Black…" _

_Black black black._

_"I live in a house by a lake of grey," says Cathy, cryptic as ever._

_"You're mad," you say._

_"Though this be madness, there be method in't," she replies. "Hamlet."_

_"All I know from Hamlet is – 'there is nothing good or bad, thinking makes it so…'"_

_"Oh, but you __must__ read Hamlet!"_

_But you're not a fan of Shakespeare. Your father learnt a fair bit of it when he was at school and you appear to have inherited his opinion.__"It's stuffy and impossible to understand." _

_She squeezes your hands, making a pact. "I will learn the rules of Quidditch, and you will read Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night, or What You Will'." _

_"What is it about?"_

_"Twins," she says._

_"No it's not," says Albus, and gives a long-winded breakdown of the play by theme and subplot. _

**D.R.H.**

Neither Athena Attwood-Plath nor Artemis Lovegood ever came to another LexLit class; Artemis had exchanged it for Care of Magical Creatures, while Athena had expunged it altogether from her timetable ("Arithmancy is _so_ much better!"). Many others agreed with them, which required that the "groups" be rearranged, and much to Delta's dismay, she found that McValley had placed Phineas Black on their table. "You four are taking exactly the same subjects," he said, ignoring Harvey. "You need to stick together."

"WHAT does he think he's DOING?" Delta asked her table one morning before class. "All the things he's proposing – group projects, 'reflections', where on earth…I've written to my parents, they think he's mad…and dad's a muggle which says something…"

"McValley, Machiavelli more like it," mused Cathy, playing with the fibres of her quill.

"I'm sure McValley's just trying to foster inter-house relations. We need to start on the newspaper," said Albus loudly, trying to distract everyone from Delta's unadulterated rage and loathing. "What kind of articles are we going to write? McValley has hinted that he wants something radical and revolutionary."

"He hasn't been _hinting_, he's been _stating_, Bobbie" said Phineas.

"Only my _Quidditch friends_ call me Bobbie, and nobody asked for your opinion!" snapped Delta.

Albus gave her a reproachful glare, as if to say, _"Can't you be __civil__? We have to work with him!"_

**D.R.H.**

"Greetings, friends and countrymen!" Professor McValley had re-entered the Friday morning class in what might have been a toga, but looked suspiciously like a bedsheet.

"I believe your good Professor has had the misfortune to encounter a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, so I am here replacing him. My name is Heraclites, and I'm here today to hold a debate about _time_. You see, I believe that you can't step in the same river twice. Now. Will anyone disagree with me?"

"Sir," said Albus. "Your concept of time negates the possibility of Time Travel, which means that the Time Turner should not function."

"Indeed – change is an eternal process – everything is in a constant state of flux and decay. There are three spatial dimensions and three temporal dimensions which accompany them. Young man, can you elaborate? If you can, you can have a point."

Albus continued. "You believe that we exist in the present, which is the only thing that is real. Neither future nor past exist – the past _used_ to exist, while the future is _yet to_. Therefore, there exists be no destination for you to 'time travel' to."

"Does anybody know my good friend Parmenides?" The Professor looked at Delta. "Young brunette lady with the red-and-yellow scarf – what do you know about Parmenides? Apart from the fact that he is a wizard and I am not?"

"He…thinks of the world in _four_ dimensions?" She shot a smug look at Phineas Black, as if to say, _he picks on me, not you, and I am therefore right._ In reality, Delta was hoping that McValley wouldn't ask her any more questions, particularly those which dealt with the actual physics of time travel, since the numbers tended to make her feel slightly ill.

"That's right. Take another point. Now – a point to whoever can think of good analogies for my concept of time, and for Parmenides'."

"Please, sir, Heraclites," said Cathy, waving her hand about, "while you think of time as a spinning wheel – the past is the finished thread, while the future is the unshaped wool, and the present is the bit between the spinner's fingers – your friend thinks of time like a book – everything exists at the same time, and you can merely flick back and forth between the pages of the past, present and future to time-travel."

"What does Parmenides think of change?"

"Parmenides thinks change, like time, is an illusion – 'time is the moving shadow of eternity'."

"He is, in short, a damned fatalist. And what do _you_ think of time? Which one of us is right?"

Cathy inhaled deeply, and began in her slightly-dreamy philosophizing voice, "I think _neither_ of you is right. Yes, time is an illusion, but change is not. All there is, for the individual observer, is change – that is interpreted as "events", which are chronicled in our memories to be compared with prior records." Cathy looked McValley straight in the eye, expectantly, her hands covering the worst of the raw marks on her chin, but he turned his head and swept away to look at another table. Perhaps one day, if she managed to get rid of them somehow, someday, she could be rather pretty, with her light blue eyes, Delta thought, particularly when she had a bit more colour in her face.

"A most interesting theory, O Sibyl of Apollo…could I possibly ask you to write your argument down for me, on about two feet of parchment, outlining your opinion of time – does it, as the Romans say, flee, flow, or pass – 'Tempus fugit'? – or is all this talk of passage confused, misleading or contradictory? And that goes for all of you – I shall inform Professor McValley to forward them on to me. Now, let us start to talk about some of the readings you have been doing recently!" He moved onto the next table, out of earshot of Delta's table.

"I told you, he's mad," she nudged Cathy. But then she realised the girl looked paler than usual. "Are you all right?" Delta asked, taking her cold, little hand and rubbing it. "You look as you might faint…"

**D.R.H.**

The trees turned red, then gold, as the Quidditch season commenced. Delta, Billie Meissner and Kenneth Potter had all returned as Chasers to a very successful Gryffindor Quidditch team, that promptly steamrolled Hufflepuff, even with Harvey, an excellent Chaser. But with three practice sessions a week, Delta found her ten-subject load extremely heavy, and was in fact somewhat relieved when Hogwarts awoke one morning to several inches of snow.

"Why doesn't snow make a sound when it falls?" Cathy asked her LexLit table, as they enjoyed the sight of the lightly falling snow a few minutes before class commenced. The five of them were away from their desks, sticking their heads and arms out of the classroom windows.

"It does – just the snowflakes are too small – so the sounds they make are too soft for you to hear."

"But Al, if a tree falls in the wood when no one is watching, does it make a sound?" asked Harvey, quoting yesterday's topic of discussion.

Albus softly began to quote,

_"There was a young man who said "God__  
I find it exceedingly odd__  
That this tree I see  
__Should continue to be  
__When there's no one about in the quad."_

Cathy replied,

_"Dear Sir: Your astonishment's odd;__  
I am always about in the quad.__  
And that's why the tree  
__Continues to be  
__Since observed by, Yours faithfully, God."_

"If a snowball never leaves someone's hand, is it still a snowball then?" asked Delta, taking aim at Phineas, then getting a better idea.

"Of course – OUCH!" Delta threw at Cathy a clump of snow which she had gathered with her wand. "It's good stress relief. Come on, we just had Arithmancy! I'm sure you could do with a bit too…"

"Oh I love my number charts – but I love my snowballs even more!" Cathy hurled some snow at Delta.

"Delta! Cathy! You're thirteen – surely that's too old to…" Albus was cut off by Cathy hitting him right on the nose. "Oh, all right, if you _insist_…but only if you all promise to stay back behind after class so we can sort out the matter of the newspaper…"

"I wish Hesper was here, she's the only person who could out-mother you. And you're almost wrong," said Cathy. "I'm going to be fourteen in two weeks!"

"So you're half a year older than him – he probably thinks you should be setting an example!" said Delta.

"Why not? Don't you like the snow? It's so clean, and new, and…" It was Cathy's turn to be silenced, this time by the approach of the Professor.

"Good morning freedom-seekers! Today we will be reaching conclusions on whether our thinking consciousness confirms whether we exist or not! Who can tell me…?"

"Renee Descartes," said Delta, with a perfect accent, and a supercilious look at her cousin.

**D.R.H.**

"I agree with Harvey that we ought to make a good name for ourselves – if people love our name then they'll love our project," said Albus, addressing the table at the end of the lesson. "Love of a name increases love of the thing itself."

"Something about that doesn't sound right," Delta cringed. "Needs something stronger. Try _Fear_."

"Why would we want people to fear us though? Surely we're not that competitive," said Cathy.

"We could go with French. How about French? Vive la revolution!" Delta punched her hand in the air, and Albus gave her a disapproving look.

"We need something people can easily spell," said Phineas, who immediately regretted it because Delta shook her fist at him.

A torrent of names was then unleashed – which included _The Monthly Mews, The Monthly Moos, The Monthly Machiavellian, __Spaghetti, __The Bohemian, The Pickwick Paper, Merlin's Beard__, In Profundis Umbris__…_

"It's a wicked pun! Don't you think so? It would make Elphias proud…"

"I'm not sure if our mascot should be a cat. Did you know, McValley is allergic to cats?"

"Could be worse though, Elphias is allergic to_ birds_, how did that happen? Remember that time when he was walking down the path, and a bird was standing in his way, and he made us walk around…"

"Ooh, McValley sounds an awful lot like Machiavelli doesn't it? What do you mean – you don't understand what I mean?"

"I wish Artemis was here; he'd have suggested something hilariously out of the blue, something like 'Spaghetti', and he'd argue that it wouldn't need a 'the', just because it sounded catchy."

"La Vie Boheme!"

"Down from the table, if you please, Delta."

"But I haven't read Charles Dickens!"

"What the…Dickens?"

"We say 'Merlin's Beard' in the Wizarding world."

"Or…in the deepest shadows…now doesn't that sound magnificent? More so than our family motto…"

By this point, Cathy's absent-minded sketch of a large, deeply-set eye had progressed to a fair bit of detail. Delta's attention span had expired too. "May I look?" Delta pulled the notebook away as she asked Cathy's permission. "Golly…you _are_ good…I think we've just found ourselves an illustrator! Can you draw cartoons too, Cathy?" she handed the book back to the stunned girl. Cathy scrutinized Delta and started making quick strokes.

"Nocturne," said Albus, looking out the window.

"What?" Delta screwed up her nose.

"How about 'The Nocturnal' as a name? It draws together the idea that we're operating underground, that we like our French and Latin, and it contrasts strongly with 'The Daily Prophet'."

"Al! You're a genius!" Delta threw her arms around Al's neck and kissed him on the cheek, so that he turned the same colour as his hair.

"We should probably go, outside is turning quite nocturnal now," said Cathy, marginally less quietly than usual, staring out the window again.

* * *

_**My Fair Lady: Wouldn't It Be Loverly If Someone Reviewed?**  
All I want is to know somewhere  
Out there that all my readers care,  
That the reviews page don't look so bare,  
Oh, wouldn't it be loverly?  
Lots of messages for me to read,  
Lots of crit to make me better I need  
To make things right before I proceed  
Oh, wouldn't it…be loverly?_

A slightly different flavour to Part I, methinks. Shakespeare should be in the public domain now, so I'm not going to get flustered about writing a disclaimer for him in every chapter he gets a reference; as awesome as he is, this is all the credit he gets, since I can never hope to entirely thank him for all he has given. "La Vie Boheme" is a reference to both the Puccini opera and its transformation, _Rent_. Albus and Cathy's limericks are lifted from the Penguin Reference, _D__ictionary of Philosophy_. Here I will also thank my Latin teacher, who enjoyed dressing up and storytelling, and my Philosophy lecturers.


	4. Chapter 3: Delta: White Winds

This chapter is dedicated to:

**1. Nian Ning Lee **(1987-2008). One of my best and dearest friends from university. Thank you for everything; I'm going to miss you so much. May you rest in peace.

**2.** **ShadowMoonDancer**who has favourite-ed this!**  
3.** The **6 FFNet-ers** who have alert-ed this!  
**4.** My reviewers. You keep me going in times of need.**  
5.** **You **guys, my readers. Without you, I would not have hit almost 200 hits.

_I promise this chapter will be substantially less nerdy than the chapters before. _

* * *

**Chapter 3: White Winds, by Delta**

_Double potions with the Ravenclaws._

_She__ isn't well-liked by the Potions mistress, Professor Tankard. It isn't because she's stupid or inattentive in class, but because somewhat like you, when left to her own devices, her mind wanders.__She lacks Albus' preciseness in thought and action, says Tankard. _

_She will bury her nose in a book, and a flask will slip from her hand and shatter on the floor._

_In the monotony of stirring a cauldron, she will lose count of the rotations. _

_She will sing a song as she skins a shrivelfig, and nearly slice the tip of her fingers off. _

_ "V'là l'bon vent, v'là l'joli vent  
V'là l'bon vent ma mie m'appelle,  
V'là l'bon vent v'là l'joli vent  
V'là l'bon vent ma mie m'attend."_

_She is getting rather good at healing those accidental bruises and scratches though. You think she does it in the hope that one day she will fix the wounds on her face. You hope Cathy does, it's the least she deserves._

**D.R.H.**

Delta furiously tore open her letter from home, as always. But this time, instead of putting it under the pillow of her four-poster bed, she tore it up. _You'll miss me over Christmas break indeed_, she growled, throwing the pieces out of the dormitory window. _But Cathy always gets to go home for Christmas! And Easter too! _

**D.R.H.**

She was sitting in the Common Room one night close to Christmas break, arguing with Albus over the matter of the newspaper.

"We need to get to work on the newspaper! The sooner it's over, the better, because then we can focus on all our other subjects, and this is so easy to get out of the way. But the only people who have given me anything are Cathy and Phineas. What happened to that rant of yours on 'Categorisation' that you were going to write for me?"

"It's coming," said Delta. "Once I do this blasted Arithmancy homework. And maybe once I have murdered Pender as well, because he is the epitome of sadism. If you want your article, then you can come and help me."

"Why didn't you ask me earlier?" Albus moved next to her. "Look – what you need to do is to take the complements of these three numbers, then…" his quill moved over the sheet of parchment as he solved the problem in four elegant steps. "It helps _a lot_ if you use some brackets," he added. "Brackets are your best friends in Arithmancy."

"FOUR lines? You're joking. I was thinking four pages would be more accurate. Besides," she referred to his earlier gripe, "Hufflepuff and Slytherin haven't given you anything either, have they?"

"Well, no, but I was hoping to chase them up tomorrow and at least make Harvey and Phineas promise that they'll have something for me after the holidays. You, on the other hand, I hear, are staying at Hogwarts for Christmas."

"In-deed. The babies have come down with Dragon Pox, they're going to be contagious for a month, and I haven't had it so I'm not allowed within a one-mile radius of my house. Why are _you_ staying at school over Christmas anyway?" Delta asked, as Albus went back to his spot in front of the fireplace.

He didn't even look up from his book when he replied, "I have lots of work to do here."

"Al, you _always_ say that; you're such a workaholic. Don't you ever want to go home, and sit up late in front of the fireplace playing with your little brother and drinking a cup of extra-strong hot chocolate?"

"I _always have a lot of work_," said Albus, gathering up his books and bag. "Just because you're on the verge of dropping Arithmancy doesn't mean we can all take a break. In fact, I have to go to the library now." He walked off in a huff.

"Gosh," she called after him, "you didn't have to take it that personally! Since when did you get angry about anything anyway?"

But she did wonder whether she valued Arithmancy over Lexicology, whether she valued her sanity over keeping up with her friends.

In fact, as she lay her head down on the cool pillows of her four-poster bed that night, she was feeling guiltier for _not_ feeling guilty at wanting to drop Arithmancy. Gosh, Al was intuitive. _He should take Divination_, Delta chuckled to herself, knowing what he thought of the subject. That had been part of the reason she had been so loath to accept her mother's subject suggestions. At least in Arithmancy she had Elphias, who was worse at it than her, and Al, who would do her homework for her.

Perhaps she could talk to the Head of House about it sometime; he was, after all, staying back these holidays, the killjoy.

**D.R.H.**

With only one week left until Christmas, the castle was abuzz. Even Binns, the usually puritanical Head of Gryffindor, was in a lively and festive mood. One morning he took it upon himself to adorn the common room with a tree. As Delta watched her history teacher flick threads of tinsel from his wand, and Albus assisted him by adding a string of rainbow-coloured lights, she sighed, dreading the upcoming appointment.

"Surely you should be going off to class now," said the Professor, addressing the crowd of students who had gathered to watch. Albus seized Elphias and Delta and the three of them headed off to double Charms with the Slytherins.

Delta trudged down the Entrance Hall, oblivious to the wreaths of holly and sprigs of mistletoe.

Her mother had written a long, "I told you so, you don't have the attention span," letter and ended it with a, "but no matter what happens, whatever you choose, your father and I will always be proud of you." She was, of course, referring to her long-standing dream of becoming a curse-breaker for Gringotts bank, which required Arithmancy, just like that Mulciber man, who had married Aunt Elladora. All her father had said was, "So how is Quidditch going?" Bless him, even fourteen years of marriage to a witch had not made this muggle realise that you couldn't fly a broomstick in a blizzard.

_Would she miss Albus' I-swallowed-a-logarithmic-table voice, Elphias' illegibly-written notes, or Cathy Carlton's hilarious in-class digressions and propensity for spontaneously breaking into song? Were they worth the nightmares she had about failing a subject for the first time?_

**D.R.H.**

"You have to speak to Professor Repaci," said Professor Binns. "While I agree that taking three extra subjects is probably too much in light of your extracurricular activities, I still recommend you go directly to your teacher. It is always good to keep your options open for NEWTs – and I really do not advise you to base your subject choices on one poor grade, only three months into a new subject."

She fumed all the way down the hallway. _THANKS for the ADVICE or LACK THEREOF_ she thought, aiming a kick at a piece of holly that had fallen off the ceiling.

"I saw that, Delta Hitchens," said Professor McValley.

_SO WHAT WILL IT BE THIS TIME? Five points from Gryffindor?_

"I understand – the need to give something a good kick," he said. "Or the need to blow something up," he said, pointing his wand at the holly and making it explode in a shower of glitter. Why don't you come to my office for a cup of tea?"

Delta didn't drink tea, but she was feeling too glad to have evaded punishment to refuse.

"Or hot chocolate?" he winked, when she looked up at his stunning green eyes.

_No wonder Cathy…_

"Miss Hitchens?" he interrupted her thoughts, as she followed him up a flight of stairs.

"It's nothing, sir," she said.

"No, something _is_ on your mind, and I would like to hear about it." He pushed open the door to his office. It was mostly continuous with the general decor of the castle, with an emphasis on medieval rugs and a definite lack of decent lighting. But the wallpaper was of a pleasant golden hue, set off by a number of framed pictures, a large print of a poem probably in German, and there were a number of instruments lying about. McValley leaned over one of them on his desk, and some music started playing. He tapped a second and removed from it two cups.

Delta thanked him as she received the hot chocolate, inhaled the aroma and chose one of three wooden chairs in front of the desk. Using wandless magic, McValley stirred his cup, watching the spinning spoon.

"So…" said Delta, once the twirling of his finger had ceased to interest her.

"Yes! Sorry! Where were we…dropping Arithmancy?"

"How do you know?"

"I know," he said, in a voice that bordered on arrogant in its smoothness.

He was surprisingly easy to talk to though. What was harder was making sure she didn't "name names".

"My mother got disowned by her parents, because she married a muggle, and they really didn't approve in those days. I guess it still hasn't changed that much in some families though, even though if we don't marry muggles we'll die out, or we'll become inbred, like my wonderful cousins…"

"Wait – Hichens is your surname, is it not? No relation to Robert Smythe Hichens, the writer of _The Green Carnation_?"

"How did you know my father's name's Robert? My name should've been Robert but I've had to settle for 'Bobbie'…not he's not a writer…he has a sister called Jean who nearly was one though…how romantic it would have been if he was!…but you know, it would've been romantic, funny even, if only they hadn't been left as poor as church mice…that was, until father got himself into speculating…luckily, I didn't see much before that."

Something about him had made her open up completely, about her mother, her father, about her uncle, about his sons; Delta guessed it was a combination of his indisposition to judge a single word she said – he never once stared at her critically – and his willingness to share the secrets of his past – as he spoke with her about his own dysfunctional family. Delta shut her eyes and dipped her tongue in the very last remnants of the chocolate, thinking, _h__e isn't __strange and __mysterious at all__. In fact, he's like me, easily distracted._

"My mother was a muggle, in fact," said McValley, "She came from a very wealthy family too…but she died when I was young."

"I'm sorry," said Delta, automatically, wanting to say more, but unsure of what was right, as McValley looked over his shoulder to a painting of a young woman in fancy-dress. Blonde curls cascaded over her puffy white sleeves and her full skirt flowed out behind her. White, feathery wings burst from her shoulders and a silvery halo floated above her head. Her eyes were sea-green._ She must be his mother; they have the same grand cheekbones and deeply-set eyes._ Next to this portrait was one of her as a child, done by a much less talented painter, for there was no resemblance if any at all, to her older self or her son.

"It's all right," said McValley, gazing at the portrait. "I hardly knew her; I was mostly raised by the servants. And even then, they trusted me enough to entertain myself; I started devouring books when I was two and haven't stopped since!" He caught her shocked look and laughed. "That's nothing. I've heard of Seers who start Prophesying from the age of two! Why, I know of one particular Seer who gave a very beautiful and poetic prophecy about children when she wasn't even quite a child herself…"

_So he really IS a genius. Full of surprises, Hogwarts is._

"I'd die if my mother died," she blurted out accidentally.

"You don't die," he said. "You don't believe it's happened for awhile…then you get angry, start kicking things and blowing things up…then you start imagining things, talking to yourself…and then you feel as if nothing will ever make you smile again, until one day, you remember something she did or said, and then you can't help it, you smile."

He smiled at her over the desk and she couldn't help but grin warmly back…

"And, at the end of the day, family, like everything else in life, are only as important as you make them."

…Even if the dim candlelight played tricks on _her_ eyes, making _his_ eyes look a little bit odd.

**D.R.H.**

Delta shut the door to Professor Repaci's office with an unexpectedly loud bang, which made her cringe. Especially when she saw the next person wanting to see her Arithmancy teacher was…

"Phineas! What are you doing here…?"

"I'm going to have to apologise to Repaci," the dark-haired boy said, "because I've just dropped Arithmancy – just spoke to Professor Stump – you know, Head of Slytherin."

Delta was aware she was being tactless, but she still said, "You…drop Arithmancy?"

"Yes," he said. "I don't know why I even took it at the beginning – it must've been just to prove a point to my parents that I was 'the smart one' – a bit of a ploy to upstage Sirius." He poked his tongue out, and shrugged his shoulders casually. "But heaps of people have been dropping their third elective – look at how many people we lost from Lex for one thing."

Delta forced a laugh. "And there I was, thinking it was all due to our…unorthodox…teacher…" she edged away. _Be civilised_, she told herself.

"Joyeux Noel," said Phineas, continuing in French, probably so that no one else could understand him. "I'm really sorry, I know we got off on the wrong foot in first year, and now that we're taking virtually the same subjects, I thought we could at least be civil to each other. After all, Sirius will be gone the year after. He held out his hand."

"Thanks," said Delta, shaking his hand. _It __is __Christmas, after all_.

Later, in the safety of the Gryffindor common room, Delta finished the last sentence of her article – _Thus it can be seen that categorisation__– due to its propensity to create social conflict, mental instability and discontent – and most disturbingly, the way it cheapens our individuality __through generalization __– is pointless, and potentially harmful. _

**D.R.H.**

"What's Professor McValley doing? I think he's…reading a newspaper!" said Cathy, focusing her Omnioculars.

"WHAT? Cathy, give me those things, you clearly don't know how to use them." It was the first Saturday after the holidays, and they were watching the Slytherin versus Hufflepuff match. "Anyway, so why do YOU think this scum of a cousin is trying to reconcile with me?"

Cathy shut her eyes, and her head swayed slightly, as if she was trying to lose herself in her own thoughts. "Perhaps…he's just read about the antics of the Ancient Pharaohs of Egypt, and he's thinking of taking on their…traditions. Traditions of keeping the royal bloodline pure…by marrying half-relatives."

"WHAT? OH GOD I HOPE NOT!"

"Cathy, you have an overactive imagination, and Delta, you are by far too gullible. He's probably being honest – he feels bad that his family has been so hostile to you that you can't even act _civilized_ when you have classes together." said Hesper Starky, curtly.

There was a roar from the Slytherin stands as Phineas caught the Snitch. "Oh well, there goes that," she sighed. "I guess I owe you each a sickle. Guess I overestimated dear old Harvey."

"No," said Cathy, "just Hesper. I wouldn't have come to the match if she hadn't begged me to. I think Albus and Elphias have the right idea – I don't see them with you, I suppose they're off…"

"…in the library, _studying_, yes…" said Delta, exasperatedly.

**D.R.H.**

It was a different group of five who gathered around a table at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade to discuss the production of _The Nocturnal_.

"Alpha"

"Archelaus"

"Caricatura"

"Draco"

"Ebony"

_The Nocturnal_ finally came into being on the weekend before Delta's final Quidditch match of the season – against Slytherin.

**D.R.H.**

The whistle blew. Delta kicked off the ground, enjoying the feeling of the wind in her now short and curly hair. For the first time, she managed to restrain herself from sneaking glances at Phineas, waiting for a bludger to break his nose.

And once she had her feet back on the ground, ready to be whisked off to the winners' party, she was embraced by Cathy, who had remembered – she claimed she had "guessed" – Delta's birthday. God must have rewarded her for thinking nice thoughts!

* * *

_**Health Ledger (RIP 2008) – Can't Take My Eyes Off Your Review**  
You're just too good to be true  
Can't take my eyes off your review,  
Your words are heaven as such  
I want to thank you so much,  
At long last hope has arrived,  
I thank god I'm alive,  
You've shown me things I never knew,  
Can't take my eyes off your review!_**  
**

**A/N:** I don't actually understand French, I just lifted the song from _Chocolat_, the novel by Joanne Harris. Like I don't own Harry, I don't own Vianne. So please don't sue.


	5. Chapter 4: Delta: Blue Unclouded Weather

**A/N:** _Tempus _is now sitting on a very happy 243 hits. My unadulterated gratitude goes out to all my reviewers. Furthermore, I would like to go down on my knees before **BonniDolle, HiddenDepths-x, ShadowMoonDancer, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, deeps85 **and **sunny88**, who have _Tempus _on alert or favourites!

Here I will also exalt **Cell4, Cuban Sombrero Gal, lindy hopper, ShadowMoonDancer, shdurrani, vash65, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, Mugendai, Pink Eraser **and **timano **who have put me on author alerts, and or favourites. (Go read their stuff too - it's awesome!)

So this is the last of Delta's ramblings.I also swear on my life that you will NEVER get another of McValley's torturous LexLit classes. Firstly, because Elphias doesn't take them. Secondly because...oh, you'll find out.

* * *

**Chapter 4: Blue Unclouded Weather, by Delta**_  
_

_The sky has soaked you all – players and spectators alike. You run with Cathy, arm-in-arm, to shelter. _

_"A foolish thing was but a toy, for the rain it raineth every day…"_

_"You read it," she says with a smile. Her lips are thin but her gesture sincere. "The clock upbraids me with the waste of time."_

_"I loved it," you say. "The girls were twice as gutsy as the boys." _

**D.R.H.**

"Happy Easter," said Delta, distributing novelty Easter Eggs to her LexLit table. "Lemon for Albus, Peppermint for Cathy, Hazelnut for Phineas and Caramel for Harvey."

"Wow," said Cathy, tearing open a bag of miniature solid chocolate eggs, and handing everyone a few "You got all our favourites – how did you manage that?"

"I guessed," said Delta, very pleased with herself.

"And because we got _The Nocturnal_ together ahead of schedule, here's my contribution," added Albus, passing around eggs with colour-changing wrappings.

"Reward and punishment, I like that philosophy!" said McValley, treating them all to a roguish wink.

Phineas bent his head down so he could whisper in Delta's ear. "I promise I'll have something for you after Easter. Do you know where the Slytherin common room is? Oh never mind, just meet me outside the Potions classroom on the first night back."

**D.R.H.**

You could lose track of time in the dungeons; the only light there was provided by the medieval-looking torches in brackets on the walls, and the smell of dampness saturated every square foot. Delta's breath turned to mist in front of her eyes, as she waited nervously outside the Potions Dungeon.

She swore she could hear a dripping sound, which only made the waiting worse.

She was going to be stood up, as Elphias warned, she knew it.

But then Albus had said, she owed him a chance. She'd never given him one before.

So she tapped her foot.

And then she heard footsteps rhythmically mingling with hers.

"Did you have a good Easter?" Phineas asked, sprinting towards her, surprisingly not puffed at all.

"Good enough, I just stayed at school," she said. "I didn't see much of you though."

"That's because I went home."

"Oh, why? On the occasion I ducked into the library, I noticed Sirius swotting away…"

"I desperately had to get out of Sirius' hair, for one thing. And I also thought I'd return this to its rightful owner…" He brought out the tiny, ancient book. To Delta's delight, it was in no worse a state than it had been when she lost it.

"I was going to fix it," he explained, "But it showed the marks of so much love – it seemed sad to erase them all. I'm sorry I took so long; it was really and truly buried in my brother's things. But I don't think he ever touched it – it looks like it did when he took it – unfairly – from you. I just felt it should be returned to its rightful owner," he reiterated.

Delta flew at Phineas, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, cousin Phineas."

**D.R.H.**

"It's beautiful," said Albus, examining the antique book. "Could I please borrow it?"

"You…want to borrow _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_?" Delta asked incredulously.

"From the mouths of babes," said Albus. "It's from the Bible. From Matthew. 'And they said unto him, Hearest thou what these say? And Jesus saith unto them, Yea; have ye never read, Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings thou hast perfected praise?'"

"All right, you queer little quoting thing," Delta said, giving him the book. "I've hardly missed it in nearly three years – of course you can have it for a week."

"What about…could I please have it until the end of term?"

"Who are you, and what have you done to Albus Dumbledore?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"What happened to the boy who used to gobble down nine hundred pages a night?"

"Well, it just seems like the kind of book you'd like to…savour…instead of gobbling."

"Al, you know it's all right with me, I would trust you with my books more than I'd trust you with my life; your books are still in a better condition than mine, even if they started out second-hand!"

**D.R.H.**

When classes resumed on the fifteenth of April, three newspapers awaited the Lexicology students – _The Hogwarts Heckler, Witch Weekly _and_ The Nocturnal._

"Witch weekly?" Delta asked in admiration, flipping through a copy. "How did they get away with a title like that? I sure as anything wouldn't have let the boys write a paper called 'Wizard Weekly'…must be an all-girls table, I wonder why they picked that name, it makes it so obvious…"

"Delta," said Albus gently, "Our table has the only three boys in the class."

"Oh…" said Delta.

"How kind McValley is, he wouldn't have Phineas ambushed by a flood of femininity. But then he doesn't mind if you and I are pushed around by the boys, I suppose he thinks we can cope with them, which is nice to know."

"Come again, Cathy?"

But she was now occupied with "finding inelegant sentences" in _The Hogwarts Heckler_.

By the end of the class, Professor McValley had revealed the identities of all fifteen students, and their respective papers. "Now," he said, replicating enough copies for everyone, "I want you to read these for homework – and write a _reflection _for next Friday. A foot of parchment on what you've learnt from this – and on what personal attributes made it easier, or more difficult."

**D.R.H.**

"This is excellent!" said McValley, approaching Delta's table. "Of course, it's no less than what I expected of you, being five brilliant students. The pictures! I promise I will never throw my hat at you for doodling in my classes ever again, Cathy, I am sure you have been told this before, but you have a gift. Have you ever considered going into, say, architecture, my beautiful girl?"

Cathy looked at the floor, struggling to suppress a smile.

"What is so funny?" McValley asked.

"I'm not beautiful," she stated as a matter-of-fact, referring to the disfigured state of her skin. "And I'll never be, if these ever clear up I'll be left with angry red scars…" Delta pitied her; at least Elphias' dragon pox had vanished.

"Oh, trust me, a lot can happen in the next few years. Trust me, you'll be a beauty one day." McValley said. "Remember what we've discussed about the impermanence of beauty? One day, I anticipate, it will cease to be fashionable to be nice and rounded, and people will be starving themselves, or making themselves vomit, in the pursuit of a thin figure like yours, and Albus's."

Albus laughed, nervously, and tucked an auburn strand behind his ear.

"Albus – you discuss topics with the maturity of a seventh-year – your article _Utopia_ really made me think, even if I can't say I agree with you. Delta, your passion for what you write about just wafts off the pages. Phineas, you have the most amusing ability to keep objective and cynical no matter what. Striking yet anticlimactic sentences like 'I took a scarf out of my wardrobe, because I wanted to hang myself, but the scarf was too short. And last but not least, Harvey, nicely pragmatic, and straight-to-the point."

"But what did you think about _my_ writing, Professor?" asked a mousy voice.

"Well, Cathy," said McValley, "you have an excellent command of language, quite a way with words, but it is wasted on expounding the ideas of others…"

Cathy now looked at one of her grades and could not hide her disappointment.

"It _had_ to happen, Cathy," he said, gently. "You _had_ to make that mistake so not only you – but everyone else in this class, who does it to some extent – will learn that it does not do for brilliant people to become parrots! I want to hear what _you think_, Cathy, I don't want you to just quote, you need to build on quotes. YOU will be the leaders of tomorrow, of the next Age of Magic, and the world needs you to be able to rule with justice and strength, and that will only happen if those at the top are able _to think for themselves_. The masses aren't capable of doing that – that's what makes them the masses – that's why they need you to think for them."

Delta's heart was pounding. _We are going to be leaders. Albus and Harvey and Phineas and Cathy and I…_

**D.R.H.**

It was a weekend Delta would never forget; not only had her group received the best marks in the Lexicology class, but the outcome of the Slytherin versus Ravenclaw match meant that Gryffindor had won the House Quidditch Cup based on the point scores. Neither the pending exams nor the torrential spring rains could dampen her spirits.

"Come on, Elphie," she said, "can't you give me a smile today?" he had been rather morose since Christmas, and Delta put that down to perhaps missing his friend in Arithmancy. She had reassured him time after time that it was a great relief to have only two elective subjects, just like him, and the fact she had picked Arithmancy to drop had nothing to do with her classmates and everything to do with her ability or lack thereof, but he still spent a lot of time curled up in front of the fireplace, even though the weather was warming up. And then she thought harder. "Is it about exams, Elphie? Because you know – I highly doubt they're going to only take into account only your exam marks when they come to picking our classes. That would be just unfair – you've been doing so well in homework and things, and your teachers can see that you're a really good student, it's just that you don't perform that well under pressure."

"Thanks, Delta," said Elphias. He packed up his books and went upstairs to the third-year boys' dormitory. She supposed he had just gone to seek Albus for help, since Albus always had the answers to everything. And even if Albus had turned into a hermit for two weeks, just to ensure he duxed the year for the third year running, he would always be willing to help someone in need.

**D.R.H.**

Exams flew by, Albus was the top student in third-year, ensuring he added some more prize money to his growing Gringotts vault, Delta wasn't too far behind him, and thus summer blossomed in all its glory.

"First things first," said McValley in the last Lexicology lesson of the year, "I was thinking that it would be a great injustice to waste such beautiful weather – why should we resent the weather for rejoicing in breathtaking blueness when we can't? I say, 'if you can't beat them, join them'. Come on – you're wasting moments of sunshine! Let us be inspired by some poetry from the great William Blake:

_"To see a World in a Grain of Sand__  
And Heaven in a Wild Flower__  
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand__  
And Eternity in an hour."_

"I think eternity's overrated, don't you?" Delta asked Cathy, as a fresh breeze arose and whipped up the Ravenclaw's wavy hair.

And Cathy looked at Delta and began reciting, "_Had we but world enough, and time__…__t__his coyness, lady, were no crime._ It's from a poem by Andrew Marvell," she explained. "About a hundred years before Blake."

"Ah, Cathy, you have forgotten already, _you have to build on your quotes and think for yourself_."

"Marvell's saying how life's too short. You know, there's no day but today," she elaborated. She was drawing a picture of McValley with a speech bubble that read "CARPE DIEM", posing with his arm extended in a dramatic gesture and one of his legs up on a chair, a pair of glasses with blue-coloured half-moon lenses on his nose. He had explained that the tinted glass was soothing to his old eyes – a muggle called James Ayscough had discovered over a hundred years ago that they could alleviate certain "visual defects". But Delta suspected he was wearing them for the sake of making a statement.

She laughed. As the five of them lay on the grass beside the great lake, she realised she hadn't written to her parents for nearly a month – not since winning the Quidditch Cup. Where had it all gone? But she supposed her parents would understand. After all, she'd finally found her "family away from home" as Isla Black had described the Gryffindor girls she'd grown to love during _her_ seven years at Hogwarts.

At last, she could be sure that her mother would be proud of her daughter.

* * *

_**Wicked: I Have Been Changed For Good By My Reviewers**  
I'm limited –  
Just look at me.  
I'm limited.  
And just look at you, you can do all I couldn't do  
Readers!  
So now it's up to you –  
For both of us –  
Could you please review?_**  
**

**A/N: **Yay! You don't typically get particularly bright and fluffy chapters from me, but you do need a breather before you get into Elphias, and then Harvey straight after. Not alot of notes on this or any of Delta's other sections; it all came out of me rapidly, and stands largely unedited as testimony. I didn't know where I was going, but it was fun. The end.

Delta was so much damn fun. She's gorgeous and I really love her. In fact, you start to wonder why McValley never liked her much. I suppose it's because she didn't fit insert spoiler , and because there might have been a clash of personalities. They're both very strong.

Oh. "_All in the Blue Unclouded Weather_" was one of my favourite books at the time I discovered Harry Potter (1998). Robin Klein is a wonderful Australian author.


	6. Chapter 5: Elphias: The Sorting

**A/N: Are you excited? I sure am.  
This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has reviewed, especially BonniDolle, HiddenDepths-x, ShadowMoonDancer, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, deeps85, nighteyes00 and sunny88 who have me on alert.**

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Sorting, by Elphias**

_No one will speak to you in the common room. _

_No one will move over to let you share a large, squashy armchair._

_No one will miss you if you slip away early to the dormitories._

_No one will notice if you gaze longingly up at your calendar, crossing off the days until the next holidays when you will be permitted to briefly escape from Hogwarts Hell. _

_First there is the lengthy and torturous train ride, alone in a compartment, where you are just able to overhear the loud laughter of those next door. Of course, people pass along the passageway outside, but they take one glance at your green, pockmarked skin and back off and recoil, or worse, point and laugh. _

_Even if it's clearly been more than a month since you contracted Dragon Pox, which means you are clearly not contagious anymore. _

_They clap enthusiastically for you when you are Sorted into Gryffindor. But then, they do that for that Dumbledore boy – Albus or something – straight after as well__ – one of the teachers at the Staff Table even winks at him! –__ and __he__ has a father in Azkaban for savagely assaulting three young muggle boys – and you are very glad that he chose to sit far away on the Gryffindor table. It is all just a polite front, you realise, as the hot tears come to your eyes and you make your sorry way up the turret to the boys' dormitory._

_"Elphias!" says a voice._

_You look over your shoulder and see the Dumbledore boy standing by the fireplace. The flames illuminate his long, reddish-brown hair, and make his eyes look bright and twinkling._

_"Going to sleep so early at nine o'clock? Why don't you come over here, I'm sorry I didn't speak to you earlier, will you accept my apology and allow me to compensate for it now?"_

_You are desperate for anyone to talk to, so you toddle over. "Albus?" you say._

_Albus nods, and holds out a hand, taking your green palm in his long fingers. "I'm from Godric's Hollow, where are you from?" _

**E.D.**

Elphias squeezed his way along the chaotic platform in search of his best friend, Albus Dumbedore. At last he spotted him, standing with what appeared to be a smaller version of himself.

"Albus – you – you got _glasses_?" Elphias couldn't help but stare at the deep blue eyes through the new half-moon frames.

"Yes, so you can tell me and my brother apart," said Albus cheerfully. "This is my brother Aberforth – first year, of course."

"Pleased to meet you, Aberforth," Elphias held out his hand, but the only reply he got was an almost pig-like grunt. "I hope to see you in Gryffindor too," he added politely. "You've grown another inch as well," he turned to Albus once more. "Slow down a bit, won't you? I'll never be able to catch up."

"Oh Elphias! But how have you been? Surely you must have heard the news?"

"That McValley's headmaster now, replacing Niffenegger after he retired? You had McValley – how was he? Do you think he'll be good?"

"Yes – I can't quite believe it, I always thought McValley was a bit…fresh? But there must be a very good reason Niffenegger left him in charge. I am going to miss him as my Lexicology teacher though, I hope this new Professor Manion lives up to his standards."

"I suppose McValley isn't as young as he looked in that Daily Prophet article," said Elphias. "Here, Albus, let me give you a hand with your trunk – and Aberforth too."

"Why, thank you," said Albus, as they lifted the trunks together. Aberforth still said nothing. "He misses his sister," said Albus, hastily explaining.

"You have a sister? You never told me…"

"We do. But she's a fragile little flower; she needs mother to care for her twenty-four hours a day."

**E.D.**

Elphias settled down between Albus and Delta at the House table for the start-of-term feast. But before they could, as Albus said, "tuck in", the Sorting ceremony was scheduled to take place. The largest rip in the tattered hat opened and began to sing:

_ "My tale is one as old as time;_

_I sing a song as old as rhyme_

_Of __four __great witches and wizards, who_

_Taught this hat all that they knew_

_To secure the future of this school,_

_Once time had snatched away their rule._

_Rowena Ravenclaw, lithe and fair,_

_Who built Hogwarts castle from the air,_

_And took under her wing the brightest minds_

_To educate, to enlighten and __to __unblind._

_Next, Godric Gryffindor, the stout of heart,_

_Who took us safely off the charts,_

_And sought the students most courageous,_

_Nurturing hot tempers to be advantageous._

_And Salazar Slytherin, the lord of the lake,_

_Only the most cunning would he take,_

_And only if their blood was pure,_

_So the noblest families would endure._

_Last, but not least, Helga Hufflepuff,_

_Always sweet-tempered, never gruff,_

_Who opened wide her kindly arms,_

_To teach any on earth her ancient charms._

_And to this day their spirits live on_

_Beneath my brim their will is done_

_As I shall look inside your head_

_To see to which house you should be led_

_So what are you now waiting for?_

_Sit down and see which of the four_

_Will form your Hogwarts family_

_And suit you most uncannily_

_Throughout the coming seven years_

_So try me on, and have no fears."_

"Amos, Christiana!" called Professor Llewellyn, the Head of Ravenclaw House.

"RAVENCLAW!" bellowed the hat.

Elphias watched as the table decked in blue and bronze erupted in applause.

"Avery, Marshall!"

The tallest boy of the first-year crowd stepped forward and sat on the stool.

"Slytherin!"

Now it was the table on the far side's turn.

"Branch, Veronica!"

"RAVENCLAW!" called the hat, as a small, dark girl scuttled over to her new House table.

"Castellan, Rose!"

The hat considered for a little longer than usual. "Hufflepuff!"

"Chenoweth, Julia!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Collins, Magdalina!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

At last, Elphias stood up with the rest of Gryffindor House to welcome the new recruit.

"Davidson, Duncan!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Albus whispered to Elphias, which made him feel a certain warmth that they were close enough to share something secret. "I bet he'll go into Hufflepuff."

Aberforth Dumbledore was now perched on the three-legged stool. The hat pondered for a good thirty seconds.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

If Albus felt any negative feelings, Elphias could detect none of them at that moment as he clapped his brother on the back warmly. _He's so wonderful, Albus, he doesn't know how to feel resentment, even though he's suffered so much injustice in his life – with his father in Azkaban, and his mother preoccupied with his fragile sister, and his brother nearly mute, I wish I could be like him._

When at last "Yaxley, Lysandra," had been sorted into Slytherin, Professor McValley rose from the staff table to address the entire school.

"Welcome, welcome, to another year at Hogwarts!"

Something about the voice chilled Elphias. It was too smooth – not smooth like Albus', which was smooth in the sense that it was gentle and peaceful and imperturbable – but was a bit too sweet. Like tea with three sugars. But then, that just happened to be the way Albus liked it.

**E.D.**

Elphias was dreading seeing Professor Binns to receive his timetable; while his marks had been better than usual, with only Albus and Delta for comparison he wasn't sure if they had been quite good enough to secure him a place in "the top classes".

There was a great deal of whispering in the common room on the first night; apparently all of Gryffindor house was experiencing the same thing he was, while waiting for Binns to show up with everybody's individual timetable. The chatter did nothing for Elphias' nerves.

"Apparently there are three groups. So that means…they have 13 places in each."

"But they didn't say the classes are evenly grouped; maybe there are more people in the middle than at either end."

"How did they manage to…average us out? Surely we must've done better in some subjects than others…? And what about electives?"

"No, electives aren't graded at all."

"Thank goodness. I suppose they've picked a subject which they think is 'most important', like Charms and based everything on that."

"Oh god, I hope they didn't take that or my Transfiguration mark."

"I bet all the Ravenclaws are pleased as punch tonight."

"I heard McValley has a mind like nothing on earth, that's how he managed to sort everyone's timetables out in his head. And it must be a nightmare."

"I'll tell you what I think; his head has a thing for the number 'three'. Every double class is going to be three hours now, instead of two. Sadistic creep."

"You are so right – this thing about 'first phase, second phase, third phase' – why do we need to be reminded of our OWLs next year?"

It was with trembling hands that Elphias received his timetable, the first third-year to do so. He scanned it for any massive changes as he walked quietly up the stairs; everything McValley had told them on the night of the feast had come true. Each period was a torturous ninety minutes, although the doubles had mercifully been banished from existence. And at the bottom of time timetable was a note. "Please note that fourth-years are expected to be in bed for lights out at ten-thirty pm, with the exception of Astronomy lesson nights, and that heavy penalties apply."

Elphias couldn't remember there being a Lights Out rule last year, but he was distracted by Albus, who came into the dormitory, the next to receive his timetable.

"Swap?" asked Elphias timidly. Albus complied.

There was a pause.

"We're in the same classes!" Elphias burst out, grabbing hold of Albus' hands. His status as one of Albus' friends could not be threatened.

* * *

_**A/N: Queen – Somebody To Review I  
**Can anybody find me…somebody to...review?_

_Each morning I get up I write a little  
Can barely stay in my seat  
But then I take a look at my stats page  
And ask – what is so wrong with me?_

_I spent all my years believing I could write  
But now I get no recognition – why?  
Can somebody, somebody  
Can anybody find me somebody to review? _**__****  
**


	7. Chapter 6: Elphias: The Spell

My muses are **BonniDolle, HiddenDepths-x, ShadowMoonDancer, Shubie, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, deeps85, nighteyes00 and sunny88 **who are watching this story blossom as its characters do, as well as **my devoted reviewers**.

It is because of you guys that I am sitting here, updating, instead of fixing my philosophy essay that is due in 48 hours.

**And a very warm welcome to those of you who are "graduating" from _Seven Ways! _May you find your fill of words and slash here too.****  
**

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Spell, by Elphias**

_The teacher who usually takes Defence Against the Dark Arts, Professor Stump, grandson of the great Grogan Stump, Minister of Magic who died last year, __is absent today. So instead, you have a teacher who introduces himself as "Professor McValley", and says he usually teaches "Literature and Lexicology". _

_His voice is quite low, but very loud. He has short grey hair, but his face is far from severe; on the contrary, in the right circumstance it might even be merry. Apart from the eyes, so narrow that it is difficult to read his expressions. He is only of average height, but his large hands convey raw power, particularly when they grasp his long, thin wand. _

_"Can anyone tell me what a Boggart is?"_

_On cue, Albus' hand fires into the air._

_"A Boggart is a creature which has the power to change its shape. Being a creature of the Dark, it likes best to assume the shape which it thinks is most frightening, so as to overwhelm, paralyse and consume its victims. The way to defeat a Boggart is through laughter, turning whatever you fear into whatever amuses you. "_

_"And the incantation?" McValley clearly likes Albus, continuing to push him more deeply, but then you remember how he fixed Albus' nose on the first day of term last year. _

_"Riddikulus. And at the same time, one must picture the amusing transformation in one's head."_

_You all practise the wand movements and the words of the spell before lining up before a large black trunk where McValley says he is keeping the Boggart. "I'll demonstrate," says McValley, at the front of the queue, opening the trunk with a wave of his wand._

_Out of the trunk comes a colossal wave of dark-green, almost black, water. A few people scream, as it rises around their ankles, seemingly infinite._

_But then you hear McValley's strong voice. "RIDDIKULUS!" _

_And the water is turned into something sweet and sticky, something that fills the room with the aroma of raspberry jam as it continues to gush out of the trunk. McValley leaps aside, and Delta Hitchens is next to tackle it. _

_There is a crack, and the Boggart lies on the floor, the waxen corpse of a middle-aged woman, with hair precisely Delta's shade of brown, but three times the length._

_"R-Ridikkulus," says Delta, her voice wavering slightly. Nothing happens. _

_"It's less of a jab, and more of a flick," says McValley._

_"RIDIKKULUS!" shouts Delta, and the corpse turns into a porcelain doll. _

_It is now your turn. There is the cracking noise again, and you face a giant bird, about four feet tall, with a long beak made of brass, matching teeth and metal-tipped feathers. You gulp, but you do no worse than Delta, as with a cry of "Ridikkulus!" the bird swells up and explodes. _

_A small Ravenclaw girl steps up to the challenge and with a crack, the room swirls into pitch-blackness._

_"Riddikulus!" cries she, and the Boggart becomes a box labelled "Instant Darkness Powder: Just Add Water!"_

_A Ravenclaw boy is next in line; the Boggart turns into a mummy, whose bandages unroll. _

_Albus is the last in line. The room becomes dark again, and Albus says, "Riddikulus," clearly and confidently. A warm, white light floods the room, crushing the blackness together and forcing it back from where it came. _

**E.D.**

Professor Stump was already there when Elphias, Albus, and Delta as well, arrived for their Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson. He was ticking names off a roll. "Elphias Doge, Albus Dumbledore, Delta Hitchens…"

Delta caught sight of Catherine Carlton and dragged the two boys over near her. "Hullo! I was hoping I'd see you in the same class as me! I suppose all of Ravenclaw is here with you?"

"Not quite," said the girl next to her, whom Elphias recalled was Hesper Starky, the raven-haired Ravenclaw with ravishing amber eyes. "We're missing two – Georgietta Goodman and Derrick Rutherford. You might know Derrick – he plays Quidditch."

"So are there any Slytherins…or Hufflepuffs?" asked Albus.

A boy named Harvey Ridgebit turned around and waved at Albus. "I've got Vanessa Valerie with me."

"But I'm the only one here," said Phineas Black, who had just entered the classroom. "I think most of my House was counting on their fathers in the Ministry to buy them places instead of revising. The unproductive noise in the common room during exam week last year was unbelievable."

"McValley can't be bought, then…" said Catherine, her too-large blue eyes widening.

Professor Stump cleared his throat and walked over to the blackboard. "All right, folks, it is now seven past nine, not nine past seven, and I think it's high time we got going!"

There was a scramble for seats.

"Dementors are among the vilest things to walk the earth," said Professor Stump "What are they?"

Albus made eye contact with Professor Stump. "Like Poltergeists are a spirits of discord, Dementors are spirits of melancholy; they have the power to conjure and maintain an atmosphere of gloom by temporarily taking possession of happy memories."

"That is correct. And there is only one thing that can repel them."

"The Patronus Charm," said Albus automatically.

"Right again, take two points for Gryffindor" said Stump, who was used to Albus. "While the incantation is not difficult – 'Expecto Patronum!' – the magic behind it is not easy. It requires you to focus – on a very happy memory – which will provide the positive force needed to act as a shield between you and the Dementor. In its most powerful form, the Patronus is known as a 'Corporeal Patronus'. Why do you think that is?"

Catherine answered. "Corporeal is from the Latin word Corpus, which means body – meaning the Patronus has – a form – and can therefore act like – something more substantial than a spirit. It can chase the Dementors away?"

"Take a point for Ravenclaw, Miss…Carlton?" said the Professor, as Catherine bent her head over her books again, so that her not insubstantial loose black hair obscured most of her face. "Now we do not usually expect Patronuses before NEWT level, but because you are the top class, it is going to become your major…individual assignment…for this year. " He looked strained. "First, you are…er…to write a foot-long account of your chosen happy memory, looking at the reasons why it was so significant to you."

Various students exchanged incredulous looks.

"While we will not be expecting Corporeal Patronuses from fourth-years, we will still be hoping they will at least make a start, producing indistinct ones – those that more closely resemble semi-transparent silver clouds. And now, that we have the _mandatory outcome_ for the end of the year covered, let us turn to something more pertinent. Who can tell me about the Unforgivable Curses?"

Albus' hand shot up, and Elphias flushed proudly. _He chose to sit next to me_.

**E.D.**

Elphias finished his Defence homework at a quarter past ten that night, carefully rolling up the parchment which held the happiest memory he could think of. He pushed his chair back from the desk in the common room, gathered his things and bounded up the stairs to the dormitories, where he nearly bumped into Albus coming in the other direction.

"Where are you going?"

"Aberforth should be in bed, but he apparently went out to have a midnight duel with some Slytherin boy he had an argument with."

"But…he's only in first year…how much damage can they do to each other?"

Albus hitched up his robes to reveal a knee with an oddly-shaped scar, which gave Elphias an eerie jolt in his stomach. "I wouldn't underestimate my brother – he managed to give me this when we were still living in 'Mould on the Wold'."

"Well," said Elphias, marvelling at this combination of brotherly love and courage. "I hope he's all right, and I hope he doesn't get into trouble, and I hope you manage to get back before Lights Out."

"Oh, I'll be back before Curfew," he said casually, half out of the portrait hole already. "It shouldn't take me fifteen minutes to track him down; I know where he's probably headed. Good night, Elphias, I'll see you in the morning."

But Elphias couldn't sleep; he thought of the scar and Albus' pale, skinny left knee and wondered.

He listened for the soft chiming of the Hogwarts clock tower as it struck eleven o'clock, and then midnight, as the noise finally died down from the common as the last few seventh-years scrambled off to bed. "Where are you?" Elphias whispered to the darkness.

Eventually, a rustling of curtains in the bed next to him told him Albus was back.

"Where on earth were you? I was so worried," said Elphias, who could not contain his relief. "I mean – about Lights Out – didn't you get caught? It's so late…and…"

"Oh no," he replied, as brightly as ever, even though it was in the small hours of the morning, and he could not possibly have had any sleep. "I bumped into Professor McValley as he was heading downstairs for hot chocolate…and he was ever so kind about it, and asked me if I wanted one too."

"Teachers' pet," said Elphias, rather more sleepily, as he scolded himself for worrying. _Of course Albus is perfectly capable of looking after himself, what were you thinking?_ "This McValley, you must tell me what he's like – I barely remember him from that one-off Defence lesson we had in second year."

"He repaired my nose in first year," said Albus.

"He has a nice voice," said Elphias, trying to prompt him.

**E.D.**

Elphias' first encounter with McValley the Headmaster was in a Potions class, where he was sharing a cauldron with Albus, since Delta had paired off with Catherine, and Hesper with another equally handsome Ravenclaw named Lawrence Kingsolver. One of the positive things he discovered which McValley had implemented was the emphasis on "team work".

Elphias had buried his nose in the book, trying to read the instructions on how to make a Confusion Concoction. But Albus was one step ahead of him, already skinning a prickly pear.

"Daisy roots, daisy roots," mumbled Elphias, fumbling around.

"Yes, they have to be chopped into roughly equal pieces," said Albus, not looking up from his chopping board.

That was one of the few irritating things about Albus; once he was busy, he was too busy to even _look_ at you when he talked to you. Such focus.

"Professor McValley!" exclaimed the aged Potions Mistress, Professor Tankard.

"Could I have a word please, Professor Tankard?"

Elphias scanned McValley from the corner of his eyes; he was of average height, was dressed from head-to-toe in black, and had grey hair. As the two teachers swept by the two boys, McValley paused, to stoop down and take a look into Albus and Elphias' cauldron. And rest his right hand on Elphias' shoulder, besides. Elphias flinched but McValley took no notice.

"Confusion Concoction is thickening well, I see, Mr Dumbledore…and Mr Doge?" he said, giving the potion a prod with their wooden ladle.

Elphias noticed that McValley seemed more interested in the cauldron than the two students beside it, even when Albus replied, "yes, sir, just waiting for a minute more before we add the mushrooms." No wonder Albus had liked him so much; they thought alike.

"As usual…" McValley said, "O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful, wonderful!

"That's from 'As You Like It,' isn't it, sir?" Albus called after him. "And yet again wonderful, and after that?!"

"All the world's a stage," said Elphias, desperately wanting to contribute, but not knowing what.

_No resentment, Elphie, he'll always be ahead of you, and that's the way it has to be._

"Has McValley…ever put his hand on your shoulder?" asked Elphias, later.

_It's odd behaviour for a teacher._

"Of course – he does that to everyone – you know Cathy Carlton – she's always complaining about it."

_Cathy Carlton?_

**E.D.**

Elphias' mind was still on McValley during the next period, which was Ancient Runes. In fact, he was glad when he heard a voice saying, "CATHERINE! STOP DREAMING, She's looking!" in a loud whisper.

They had been lined up by alphabetical order of last name in rows by the strict Runes teacher, Professor Cato, which meant that he had been sandwiched between Catherine Carlton and Albus Dumbledore.

The Ancient Runes teacher's voice rang out all the way to their row. "Miss Carlton! I was wondering if you could kindly translate the next sentence for us?"

"Of course, Professor Cato!" Catherine answered, jumping to the appropriate line of runes. "In the temple, which had been built many years ago, was a magnificent statue made out of air…no…mud…I mean," she translated, as waves of shame halted her voice even as she corrected herself, "…made of _bronze_…"

Elphias and Albus left the classroom and caught sight of Catherine wearing an expression that suggested she wanted to sink into the floor, and Hesper attempting to comfort her.

"Come on, Cathy, cheer up – you picked up the pluperfect tense in that relative clause – I didn't even notice until you said it – I've done far more mortifying things – remember that time I had the king kill himself twice?"

"Statue made out of air," Albus smiled, attempting to contribute. "Best one we've had yet this year…"

"Oh shut it," Hesper hissed in defence of her friend.

"No, no, I didn't mean that _at all_," he blushed, which made Catherine incline her head towards the floor. "You're good at Runes, you know, that's why Cato picks on you with all the hard stuff."

Catherine shook her head vehemently, her head now in her hands. But she shook a little, with laughter. "Oh, no…not me!"

_What is she playing at?_

Elphias kept his mouth shut even though his thoughts were wandering.

"What are you talking about?" Hesper interrupted. "You're a month in front of the rest of us in grammar, you extrapolate words we haven't encountered yet, and you've never scored below a hundred in a test!"

"What's this about?" Delta came hurrying out towards them. "Cathy! Albus! Elphias! Hesper?"

"It's nothing, a couple of things got misconst_rune_d."

"Albus! That's…"

"TERRIBLE!" said Elphias and Catherine at the same time.

**E.D.**

Snow had fallen thickly, the lake had frozen over and a number of students had taken advantage of the weekend to make the most of the wintry wonderland.

As for the fourth-years, Delta was engaged in a snowball fight with a couple of Hufflepuff boys and her cousin Phineas, Albus and Elphias were talking, seated on a fallen log by the side of the lake, and Catherine was on the lake itself, zig-zagging and twirling and altogether showing off across the ice on a pair of skates, dancing to her own rhythm and oblivious to all, so Elphias had to shout to her twice.

"Why are you doing it? CATHY! Why are you…?"

She leapt into the air, landing backwards. "Winter was fairly mild this year – our lake didn't really freeze over, so I'm making up for it here back at school!"

_Our lake? She owns a lake? _"No – I meant – why skating? It looks…"

"Dangerous? Not really. I've been skating since I could walk. I always liked the sensation of flying."

_But why would you like flying when you don't like Quidditch? At least everyone knows I don't like heights._

"Are you mad? Are you a witch or not? What are broomsticks for? What does ice skating have over Quidditch?" asked Delta Hitchens, christened "Hitch" by the Gryffindor Quidditch team, who had just been caught in the face.

"The feeling of spinning as well, which you cannot get in Quidditch," said Catherine.

Right then, Albus saw something that made him start. "Professor!"

Catherine fell over, landing hard on her rear. She sighed, then got up to see why Albus had yelled.

Sitting up a tree overhanging the lake was Professor McValley, swinging his legs in the air; it was a wonder they hadn't seen him before, with the trees being so bare.

"You skate beautifully, Cathy, I had no idea – you always struck me as the summery type. And the type that had loathed water."

_So, she's traded the beauty in her face for the beauty in her skates? Is that what…_

"I was born in Winter," Catherine replied. "And I like lakes when they are frozen solid."

"Oh, naturally, you little kitten," he paused, as if he had said something wrong, before picking up again. "Quite the Ice Princess, aren't you? Albus – working on something for _Transfiguration Today_, I take it? The one you're doing with Emeric? Tell me how it's going."

"I'm just cutting the words down, sir, we have a limit of 2000 words."

"I know how hard that is for you. Keep going." McValley descended from the tree, tapped his boots with a wand and stroked out onto the ice.

Elphias suddenly became aware of the absence of quill-scratching sounds in his left ear. Thinking Albus had writers' block, and always eager to help, he turned around to face his friend, only to realise that Albus' eyes were fixed the blades of the skates, as McValley lifted Catherine into the air, the parchment in front of him a forgotten dream.

_Catherine the great at skating._

The cold air burned his throat, and he decided even though his birthday fell in the middle of it, Winter was his least favourite season. He coughed.

"You sound wheezy, Elphias," said Albus, genuinely concerned for him.

_What would I do without you? How could I think…_

**E.D.**

The Christmas feast, as usual, was a splendid affair, with roast turkeys, chipolatas, a rainbow of roast vegetables and mounds of potatoes. Countless wizard crackers were pulled; Elphias and Albus shared a Wizard Chess set, a pair of glasses which made everything look pink, a pair of white gloves, an exotic-looking fez and a Grow-Your-Own-Warts Kit. Delta and Albus' cracker exploded, revealing a jewelled headband and a toad. "You can have them both," Albus said generously, as Delta tried on the gems.

They left the Great Hall after second helpings of pudding singing Christmas carols at the top of their voices, until Delta poked the two of them in the side.

"Ouch, Delta! We just ate!"

"Shhhhh!" said Delta, jerking her head towards one of the archways in the corridor, where a sprig of mistletoe had been deftly positioned. There were Hesper and Lawrence, holding hands and kissing. So that explained why Catherine had latched onto Delta recently; it was simply because Hesper had neglected her, rather than anything else, like Catherine's own desires.

Delta made a rude gesture, poking two fingers into her mouth to mimic throwing up, which made Albus admonish her by grasping her by the arm and steering her back on the way to the Gryffindor common room. Elphias thought he might have to agree with Delta for once.

Elphias dreamt he was walking through the snow, treading in Albus' footprints behind him. He realised he was in the courtyard of the Hogwarts castle, containing the best examples of its ornate gothic architecture. The clock in the tower struck twelve as they passed under it, and Albus stopped, turned around and faced him. He looked up and saw there was mistletoe over their heads. He shut his eyes just as Albus' lips touched his. They kissed more fiercely, Albus pushed him up against the wall of the archway, and he felt their bare legs intertwine. They were warm.

**E.D.**

"Happy Birthday, Elphie," said Delta, forgetting he couldn't catch and throwing a large packet of Chocolate Frogs at him. "God we're old. Fifteen."

"Oh to be twelve again," said Albus, giving him a splendid card that sang "Happy Birthday" when he opened it. "If only we could be on those cards one day."

Right then, a shout exploded from the other side of the common room; two first-years had been having a brawl, and now their voices had now reached epic proportions.

"Yuck! What the hell did you do that for, Aberforth?" screamed Enid Smeek.

"Don't you go calling me a bloody idiot!?!"

"But that's what you are – you'll know it once I don't have to be in your classes next year, dung head! GROW UP AND GROW A BRAIN CELL, won't you?"

Albus rose and walked to the source of the commotion. "Aberforth, could you please try not to fling goat droppings around the common room? It will make the House-Elves' job easier." He sounded like a much older man, speaking to a much younger child, as he looked straight into Aberforth's identical blue eyes.

"Oh to be twelve again," repeated Elphias, remembering when life was so much less complicated.

**E.D.**

"It's time for a practical class at last, folks!" said Professor Stump. Now that you all have a happy memory to concentrate on, we are going to give the Patronus Charm a shot! Of course, doing it in this lovely, brightly-lit classroom is _very_ different to producing a Patronus under pressure, that is, in front of an actual Dementor, but we all have to start somewhere!"

The desks were cleared away, and the students stood in small groups, chanting.

Elphias swished his wand through the air, screwed up his eyes and yelled, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Just through the gap between his eyelids, he saw a few wisps of silver smoke emerge.

Albus turned to him. "I think you need to move your wrist more, rather than your arm. Expecto Patronum!" he said, and a swan-sized bird burst from his wand. Elphias flinched; he didn't like birds.

"Well done, well done, Mr Dumbledore has done it!" Professor Stump said, pointing in their direction, and right on cue, McValley marched into the room.

"How are you today, Professor Stump?"

"We're starting Patronuses today, Headmaster!"

"Oh, Patronuses! Most intriguing things," he said, scanning the classroom. He waved his wand and a magnificent Patronus, a griffin, half-eagle, half-Lion, burst into the centre of the room.

"Ah, Headmaster, none of us are _quite_ up to non-verbal magic yet! But may I say – that _is_ a most beautiful griffin!"

_You don't know anything about Albus, do you, McValley? If you did, you would know that he is perfectly capable of non-verbal magic. Well – almost perfectly – he did set the curtains of his bed on fire a few weeks ago but that's NOTHING._

"That's not a griffin, Professor Stump," said McValley, throwing his head back and laughing carelessly. "It's a griffix. Look closely at the beak and tail."

"A _griffix_? I have no idea…"

Stump literally had no idea what kind of creature that was.

"It's a creature I made up myself. Has the courage of the lion and the loyalty of the phoenix. Also, I imagine it would have the added bonus of resilience – being able to pick itself up from the flames and rise again." McValley had been looking up at the ceiling at his griffix; with a slight movement of his wrist, the Patronus soared out of the window, and Twonk followed McValley out of the room.

Elphias caught sight of Catherine, who gave Albus a shy, but sly smile, her fingers and thumb curled around her chin. If she had raised her eyebrows, Elphias would have thought her pose quite like one of those Ancient Greek philosophers who knew something that you didn't. Catherine and Delta looked at each other, blew on their wands as if they were duelling with pistols, counted to three and said the incantation.

Elphias wished fervently that they wouldn't produce anything corporeal.

Two entirely shapeless silver clouds burst out of their wands.

He smiled.

Almost smirked, actually.

_What was happening to him? Elphias never smiled, because people would look at him and think…_

Albus put his hand on Elphias' wrist to show him how it was done, and his heart leapt in a giddy whirl.

_He doesn't care about my crooked teeth, it's what's on the inside that counts._

* * *

_**A/N: **__**Queen: Somebody to Review II**  
I work hard every day of my life  
I review others till my eyes are in pain  
At the end of the day  
I save my file  
Gotta edit my story all on my own._

_I get down on my knees and I start to pray  
Till the tears run down from my eyes  
Lord!  
Somebody – somebody  
Can anybody find me - somebody to review?_

**I know, tis a long chapter****. So guys, thanks for getting to the bottom of this, and I promise Elphias' next is only half as long.**


	8. Chapter 7: Elphias: The Smile

A/N: A very special thanks to **WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot**, who did a read-through of this before it went online!

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Smile, by Elphias**

_You are now a third year!_

_This is a wonderful thing. You're allowed to go into Hogsmeade, the bustling wizard village a short walk from the Hogwarts grounds. Delta runs ahead. _

_Albus' elbow-length hair is the colour of the leaves under your feet, which make a clear, crisp noise as you walk beside him on the way to the Three Broomsticks. His heavenly blue eyes are positively sparkling as he tells you an excellent joke about a hag, a troll and a leprechaun that all walk into a bar. _

_You can't help it – in spite of your wretched, misaligned teeth, you're grinning and laughing away like a monkey. Anyway, who else is going to see you apart from Albus? He doesn't care; he always sees the best in everyone, no matter how many unsightly layers he has to peel back._

_Albus means "white", but it should really mean "bringer of joy". And all you want to do is to do the same for him. _

**E.D.**

"Albus," Elphias asked his friend during Arithmancy, "Could you please help me with my Patronus?"

"Elphias…"

The way Albus said his name gave him a swooping sensation.

"Elphias, all you have to do if you need help is ask, you know that."

"Thank you," Elphias breathed out. "When? Would you mind missing the next Quidditch match? Please? Next Saturday, can you help me – in the empty classroom on the third floor?"

"So is this going to become an annual ritual, Elphie?" he joked, thinking of what their docile darling Hitch would say. "Third year, Boggarts, fourth year, Patronus Charms, fifth year…what will it be next?" but he saw Elphias' perturbed look and fell quiet.

On second thoughts, Elphias wished Albus had kept talking, since he now didn't know whether Albus suspected anything had changed since last year. Last year it had been purely coincidental that Delta hadn't been within a half-mile radius.

_That was embarrassing, that was, last year, when he found out I was afraid, of all things, of __birds__. Birds! What were birds when compared to pitch-blackness, blanketing-darkness__? T__hat's what Albus, and __everyone,__ is afraid of! _

That Saturday morning, the two boys perched on the large teacher's desk at the front of the classroom, just close enough to each other to make the colour rise in Elphias' face.

"Ex-Expecto Patronum," he stammered, making only wisps of smoke emerge again.

Albus didn't even need to say the charm this time; he gave his wrist a flick and the large bird soared around the classroom.

"What is it?" asked Elphias. _I will get over my fear of birds._ He fixed his eyes upon the ceiling.

"That," said Albus, "is a phoenix. Like that which gave my wand its core."

_Of course – willow and phoenix feather._

"In real life, a phoenix can be identified by its scarlet plumage and golden beak, talons and tail, as well as its ability to regenerate itself by bursting into flames and rising from the ashes. It can disappear and appear at will, sing a song that increases the listener's courage and can heal with its tears. They're very loyal too. That's what's most important in a friend for life like that."

"Wow," said Elphias, honestly.

"It sounds like the perfect pet," Albus continued. "But anyway – let's concentrate on you – what memory are you using?"

"Getting my Hogwarts letter when I was eleven. What do you use?"

"It's not strictly speaking a _happy_ memory," said Albus, "but it's a strong one. It was my father playing the piano when I was five. I was sitting right next to him, and he was playing Mozart's Sonata in C. It was my favourite song for a while."

"You miss him, don't you," said Elphias, noticing how Albus' eyes became glassy for a moment, and taking his friend's hand and squeezing it.

"My father? I don't know; my mother would never let us visit him, she always went alone, so I haven't seen him for four years. And he's not allowed to send letters out either. But he exists in my memories…and we both understand why he's there…"

Elphias' voice was wavering too. "So…your father…he's…he really did those things…" he began to feel his own tears welling up.

Albus bowed his head. Elphias put his hand on the taller boy's head, thinking to bring it to rest in his lap, so that he might stroke Albus' marvellous auburn locks. But then, the Albus who had invaded his dreams was very different to this one.

"Yes," said Albus, breaking the silence, and Elphias had to stop to recall what Albus had been answering. Albus wiped his eyes, and pointed his wand at the silver phoenix, which was still hovering near the room's chandelier. It opened its beak and began to sing something uplifting. "That's _Lovely Fields_ from Gluck's _Orpheus and Eurydice_. It's simply heavenly."

The song must have had an effect on Elphias as well, because the next time he cried, "Expecto Patronum!" an almost-solid, four-legged creature burst out of his wand.

**E.D.**

There were eight of them wandering around Hogsmeade that Saturday – Albus, Delta and himself, as well as Catherine, Hesper and Lawrence, the Ravenclaws, and two Hufflepuffs, Harvey and his friend Artemis Scamander. Artemis, with almost white-blonde hair and light-coloured eyes, who took Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, was an unfamiliar face to Elphias. But he and Harvey were close enough for Delta to make comments about the "married couple", which made Elphias wonder if they were one of the "broom closet couples" of Hogwarts gossip. There were tongues still wagging, rumours still flying around, about incidents that had occurred over Christmas involving copious amounts of butterbeer, mead and illicit firewhisky. Even within the little gathering of fourth-years, there were whispers.

"_I'm going to tell him, Delta."_

"_Tell who?"_

"_Tell him. You know who. Teddy."_

"_Cathy, don't you dare. It could…it will…ruin everything about your…friendship…I might never see you again…"_

Elphias strained his ears, almost sure who "Teddy" was, but Delta's voice faded as the group turned a corner and walked down a side street.

_Since when did Delta's voice fade?_

"Are you sure we're allowed here?" asked Albus.

"Of course, why wouldn't we be?" said Delta, as two black-hooded figures entered the Hog's Head Inn in front of them. Albus raised his eyebrows at her. "Can't we say we're just…looking?"

Catherine had her nose pressed roughly up against a corner of one of the windows, which encouraged him, as well as some of the others, to follow suit. The Hog's Head consisted of a small room with a stone floor, and plain windows with no curtains. It was bare, but clean, and had a kind of medieval charm to it, enhanced by the raw wooden tables and candlelight.

"Hey, it's McValley!" said Delta, in her attempt at a whisper. "And who's he got with him?"

"My, she's very beautiful," whispered Hesper.

Harvey stared too. "She looks about twenty, perhaps younger? What do you think, Hesper?"

"I'm not sure. Old enough to have left Hogwarts, certainly. But she reminds me of one of those German girls; so pretty and fresh."

The young witch inside the Hog's Head had blonde curls, piled high upon her head, and large, grey-green eyes. A single white-gloved finger was resting upon her cheek. McValley had his back to them, the folds of his black cloak falling about his neck.

"Oh! The gossip!" said Delta gleefully to Elphias, throwing her arms around Catherine. "Should stop them talking about all those pairs of people who disappear behind tapestries and into broom cupboards!"

_What is she, a Legilimens? How does she know what I think about when I'm lying in my bed in the boys' dormitories?_

**E.D.**

He was dreaming again. He heard Delta's voice saying exactly the same words he had eavesdropped upon a few months before. Only it wasn't an exchange between her and Catherine; he, Elphias, had taken the place of the Ravenclaw girl.

"_I'm going to tell him, Delta," he said._

"_Tell who?"_

"_Tell him. You know who. Teddy."_

"_Elphie, don't you dare. It will ruin everything about your friendship. I might never see you again."_

_Then there was a ripping sound, and Delta's face and clothes peeled away, like a snake shedding its skin. Out stepped Albus. _

"_You heard?" said Elphias, weakly._

"_Every word," said Albus._

_There was a rustle of wings, and Elphias felt himself being lifted by the back of his collar. Squirming, he caught sight of black feathers, bronzy talons, and…a human head. He screamed, and woke up with a start._

"Elphias? Are you all right?" asked a concerned voice. Two slender hands parted the curtains of Elphias' four-poster bed, and he breathed easily as Albus sat down next to him.

"Nothing. Just a bad dream," said Elphias.

Albus rubbed his shoulder.

"It was nothing," Elphias repeated.

"I know," said Albus. "It doesn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. I read it in an essay last year."

_And I bet I know who wrote it…_

**E.D.**

Unexpectedly, Catherine swept up to the Gryffindor table one morning, dropped a Muggle newspaper into Albus' lap and without saying a word, went back to breakfast with her housemates. She didn't say anything, but her eyes were slightly swollen, which made them look more than ever as if they would pop out of her face. And speaking of her face, it would have been almost entirely devoid of colour, if it hadn't been for those funny little red pimples. Elphias bit into a piece of toast; the jam seemed very sweet today.

_What is it, some secret message between those two?_

"What was that about?" asked Elphias, so excited he had almost forgotten to swallow.

"Oh," said Albus. "It's about one of Cari's favourite authors. Oscar Wilde. Apparently he was just arrested and imprisoned."

"No, why? Why was he arrested?"

"For 'gross indecency,'" said Albus, reading the newspaper aloud with a very straight face. "Under Section 11 of the Muggles' Criminal Law Amendment Act, it implies 'homosexual acts not amounting to buggery'."

_What?!?_

Elphias read the article which Catherine had carefully folded so as to make it the front page; the names meant little to him, and he found it about as hard to read as Albus' thoughts.

_What, does he think it's a crime to…?_

Did that mean that he, Elphias, was doing something grossly obscene and indecent by _looking_ at Albus in that way?

_Wait, and, why was he calling her…Cari…?_

Elphias felt the heat of resentment stir within his chest, and wash over his body.

_But…but…she isn't even pretty like that other Ravenclaw girl, Hesper Starky! Or McValley's blonde!!_

"What's that?" asked Delta, elbowing him.

"Something about Cathy's favourite author," said Elphias.

"Cathy's favourite author?" Delta tore the newspaper out of his hands and skim-read some of it. "Wow, I never knew muggles were so…so…"

"Conservative?" Albus suggested. "It's not surprising," he said. "Plenty of folk in the wizarding world would concur."

Elphias coughed and avoided Delta's gaze.

**E.D.**

It was the green blue-eyed monster that haunted Elphias during exam week, giving him the sensation that he was tip-toeing on thin ice.

_He was ruddy good at reflection though, he'd have no problems getting into Albus' classes next year if McValley was that mad about it._

Still, he managed to change his bullfinch into a bullfrog for a cross-species switch, even if it still had a beak and feathered tail, and when it came to Defence Against the Dark Arts, he managed to produce a Corporeal Patronus for bonus marks, at the end of Stump's obstacle course. It was Stump's last year before retirement, and everyone was trying their best to make him proud. Stump smiled at Elphias' wolf, and Elphias couldn't help but beam back.

But then Catherine "Cari" Carlton invoked the power of a majestic horse that knew how to paw the ground and neigh.

And not just any horse. A _winged_ horse.

Elphias couldn't get over that, especially in the light of what he had read in his textbook.

_Why might a Patronus change? A great shock, a period of emotional upheaval… _

Her Patronus must have borrowed its wings from Albus'.

He sighed a thriftless sigh. Or, wheezed, more like it.

_Of course Albus wouldn't be so shallow as to chase down outward beauty. It's what's inside that matters to him._

Wolves were made to walk alone anyway. Elphias rubbed his knotted brows; only time would untangle them.

**E.D.**

The summer holidays were in full swing when Elphias, clutching at the last threads of optimism, wrapped Albus' birthday present – two books, one entitled_Enchanted Encounters_, by Fifi LaFolle, and one entitled _Where There's a Wand, There's a Way_, by Viktor Pasternacki.

_Dear Albus,_

_Happy Birthday!_

_I was wondering if I could drop by via Floo powder on your tomorrow to give you your present?_

_Yours,_

_Elphias._

The reply came later that night.

_Dear Elphias,_

_I'm terribly sorry, but the house is in a spot of chaos right now, Ariana has taken ill again. Hopefully I shall be able to see you back at school._

_Thank you very much for everything,_

_Albus_

Elphias crawled under the covers, chewing his lip and screwing up his eyes.

**E.D.**

Platform 9 ¾ was chaos, as usual, though Elphias, as he stepped through the barrier at King's Cross, about to start another year. He caught sight of Albus in a blue jacket, auburn wisps swept over his face, bending over to check something on a trunk. They had conversed as usual over the holidays – by weekly owls. As Albus straightened up, Elphias raised his hand to wave to him, and opened his mouth to call – but then he saw something else.

Even before he had turned around to face her, even before she could have consciously recognised him, Catherine had started to run.

"DORY!" the pet name burst from her.

_I guess "Teddy Bear" didn't stick. "Dory", on the other hand…at least she managed to work his name into it. _

He spun around. He caught her hands as she stopped, six inches from his face. She looked slightly dizzy, as if the platform, train and the boy himself were swinging giddily before her eyes. She loved spinning so much, thought Elphias. Was Albus going to pick her up and spin her around? He'd grown over the holidays – he towered over her – it would have been so easy…

No. He put his arms around the girl's shoulders, but that was it. She looked away from his intense blue gaze – or perhaps it was because she had become aware of the packed platform.

"Congratulations – I heard – prefect! As if topping the year in everything wasn't enough for you!"

He laughed a clear, pure laugh. "You must know though, that you came extremely close to knocking me off in Astronomy with those amazing drawings of yours. Not to mention…that was some Patronus!"

He could have been _that_ special boy, but Elphias just wasn't _that girl_. He'd realised over the course of the past two months that he'd been a dreaming fool. And now that he had been roughly bumped back into reality, his bruises ached. But at least now, he knew, enough was enough.

_Smile when your grief is aching. Laugh when your heart is breaking. _

Catherine's cerulean-coloured eyes made Elphias' brown eyes feel inadequate, because he knew that Albus could not see himself in them.

_She gives him something I can't, and I just want him to be happy._

With her quick mind, she didn't need to be winsome to win him over. There was someone Albus had chosen; and both heaven and Elphias knew that it wasn't him.

* * *

**_A/N: Queen – Somebody to Review III_**

**_Every day,  
I try and I try and I try.  
But hardly anybody scrolls further down  
This lack of reviews just drives me crazy_**

**_Does it mean I've got a lot of water in my brain?  
Got no writing sense?  
I got nobody left to listen to,  
Soooo  
Review, review, review!_**

**_Oh Lord  
Somebody - somebody  
Can anybody find me somebody to review?_**

Do you know who kept me smiling throughout Elphias' journey? **BonniDolle, HiddenDepths-x, ShadowMoonDancer, Shubie, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, deeps85, nighteyes00 and sunny88!** Thank you!


	9. Chapter 8: Harvey: Introduction

  


**A/N: **The action of Harvey's story is contrasted with the lack of action in the flashbacks, which in fact fit together to make one big scene. They're all based on William Blake poetry (which I assert no financial claims towards) and they're quite short. I see Harvey as a bit of a precursor to Charlie Weasley – strong but silent, and incredibly perceptive.

* * *

**Introduction to Innocence. Poem by William Blake, Chapter 8 by Harvey.**

_"__Piping down the valleys wild,  
Piping songs of pleasant glee,  
On a cloud I saw a child,  
And he laughing said to me…"_

_You see two people from your fourth-year classes not far to your right, but the only one you want to speak to is the boy with the white-blonde hair. Artemis Scamander. _

_"__Piper, sit thee down and write  
In a book, that all may read.__"  
So he vanish'd from my sight,  
And I pluck'd a hollow reed__…"_

_You met in first year, of course, and you were both Sorted into Hufflepuff. Being muggle-born, you didn't know a soul, and it was only because you noticed this flamboyantly-dressed boy and his parents, who leaned against the barrier between platforms nine and ten, and disappeared, that you suspected wizardry, and followed suit._

_"__And I made a rural pen,  
And I stain'd the water clear,  
And I wrote my happy songs,  
Every child may joy to hear.__"_

**H.R.**

When Professor McValley stood up and addressed the Great Hall at the start-of-term feast, everyone expected it to be trivial. Or perhaps they were just hoping, since he had already finished with the serious business of introducing the new members of staff – the tall, blonde woman, Professor Tugwood for Potions, the bespectacled Professor Hawking for Astronomy and Professor Merrythought for Defence Against the Dark Arts, as well as Professor Price for Herbology, the teacher who had joined them for the end of last year, since Professor Treebeard had had to abruptly depart.

"It is my pleasure," he began, in his perfectly polished voice, which told Harvey immediately that something serious was on the horizon, "to announce to you that the trials of the new system have been successful – thanks to the first and second years who piloted for us last year – and that _Discussion and Reflection groups _will be implemented throughout all grades in the school."

"Discussion and Reflection groups? What are they?" whispered Vanessa Valerie, with a hint of fear in her voice.

_"Is that what the first- and second- years were doing on Friday afternoons? We used to have Friday afternoons off, I suppose this explains a lot…"_

_"__How ever __are we going to fit them in? I __have __ten subjects – I don't have free periods!" _

"One two-hour evening session a week will be dedicated to this sharing of knowledge," said McValley.

Harvey shook his head. "This is going to conflict with Quidditch practice, isn't it?" he said, trying not to sound threatening, looking across the table to the Captain of the team, Peter Russell-Davies, who nodded violently.

The headmaster continued. "As the youngest in our midst are well aware, Discussion and Reflection is a time for us to become better acquainted with those in our own House. They are also vital in our development as conscious human beings, as they will aid you to know yourself – to constantly reinvent yourself as a better person."

The Hufflepuffs exchanged glances.

**H.R.**

"We're not in the same classes again," said Harvey, sneaking a glance at Artemis' timetable. "But at least we have Creatures, and D and R groups together."

"They're going to be such a _DRAG_," said Artemis. But seeing Harvey's expression, he slightly altered his tone. "I'm only playing with the letters!"

Harvey felt like they were steering into safer waters, almost as calm as those before that vast..._misunderstanding_...that had led to their falling-out last year.

Artemis rolled his eyes. "But the Group Projects…"

"They want us to do one for every subject during each 'phase'. So this year we have only three, but I imagine it'll be a nightmare," Harvey said, still more gloomily. "What do you think you'll do?"

He did wonder whether he ought to voice to Artemis his fifth-year resolution: to get back onto good terms with old friends.

"I suppose I'll have to see what everyone else in my class wants to do," said Artemis.

"Negotiate?"

"That's the word. Haven't lost your touch for reading people's minds, have you, Harvey?"

**H.R.**

"So how has this week been for everybody?" asked Professor Makepeace, the Charms witch who was also Head of Hufflepuff House, during one particular discussion group some weeks after fifth year had commenced. The ten third-year Hufflepuff girls and boys sitting around the biggest table in the Common Room exchanged glances. Harvey wasn't prepared to speak up at first.

"Good," said Artemis.

"We're working with live animals, and trying to Vanish them," answered Harvey, picking up on the little spark of enthusiasm and hoping to nurture it.

"How do you feel about it?" asked Makepeace.

"I'm rather fond of animals," said Harvey. "It's the reason why I'm taking Care of Magical Creatures."

"How does everybody else…_feel_…?"

A few people muttered. Harvey would have rolled his eyes, if he had not known how much it would have hurt Professor Makepeace's own feelings.

"Is anybody finding it _challenging_?"

"…there's…a lot to memorize?" suggested Indiana Imago.

"In reply to Miss Imago, would anybody here be able to think of some strategies that might assist our learning?"

"Ask Harvey, he's the only one who's made it into the top classes both times around," said Vanessa Valerie bitterly. "Unless you want to memorize one thousand magical herbs and fungi; then Phyllida would be most appropriate."

Makepeace pushed her. "I detect a trace of discomfort there, Miss Valerie, would you like to tell us more?"

"Well, I'm in the second class this year – but from what I've heard, it's nothing compared to third, so I suppose I oughtn't talk. I thought they'd be easier on us, because, you know. But we get so much more homework, and the teachers pressure you that little bit more – in every class it's, 'some of you may be moving', and you don't quite know whether they're talking about moving you up or even…lower…"

"At least your teachers seem to respect you – when we come into class they're always so snobby, saying things like, 'I don't expect you to understand this, so just memorize it and learn it on faith now'. There's only eleven of us, because we're supposed to get 'more attention'. But we don't want more of the kind of attention we get. And we never get practical classes, even though the smart people seem to have a practical every second lesson, and they tell us it's because the top classes cover the theory quicker than we do," said Nathaniel Knightley. "And none of us have dared to speak out about the homework, because we suspect we'll be informed that we _need_ more work. Or that it's our imagination that we get more, simply because those at the top get it done more quickly. You haven't seen pushy until you've come to one of _my_ classes."

Harvey was strongly reminded of what Cathy Carlton had said once in Lexicology. _McValley, Machivaelli more like it. Torture a few unfortunate beings for the good of the greatest number. Oh no, what was it called, Utilitarianism? _

But back then, when McValley had been a Lexicology teacher, it had been hard to find fault with him. Quoting William Blake and other weird and wonderful and dead poets, and using every excuse to wink at them.

Even if back then, he had suspected that he hadn't been one of the Professor's favourite students. It was always Albus, or sometimes it was Cathy.

_But all teachers have favourites, they can't help but like people who are passionate about their subjects, that's why I've always gotten along so well with Twonk…_

**H.R.**

He came down to Care of Magical Creatures in a heavy mood, although the sight of a large bonfire lightened it somewhat.

"This should cheer you up a bit, Harvey," said Professor Twonk, a jovial wizard with stout, strong arms as he put his wand away, having lit the fire. "Happy Bonfire Night, everyone! First things first, we need to keep this fire going – you are going to take it in turns to collect dry wood and leaves, and observe. And what do you think we are observing for?" he turned to Harvey, who was actually watching someone on the other side of the bonfire.

"Scam…I mean, Salamanders," said Harvey. "They're white lizards, which are born from the flames, feed on the flames, and take on the colour of the flames which sustain them."

"Correct. Salamanders can appear red or blue, depending on how hot the fire is. They will not usually survive for long once removed from the fire unless they are regularly fed pepper, or rubbed with chilli. But Salamander blood has powerful curative and restorative properties, being an ingredient in many Strengthening Solutions."

The twenty-five students in the class ran back and forth with fuel for the fire, hoping for a glimpse of the small creatures. Some started to ask about group projects while they waited for the lizards' appearance. Harvey thought about joining them, but as much as he liked Care of Magical Creatures, he didn't think he'd fancy doing the entire project on his own – he had a reputation for being as mad about Creatures as Albus Dumbledore was about Transfiguration. The salamanders tempted him though – they were a real treat, scurrying through the flames along the white-hot branches. Although, Artemis already had a group – of Slytherins – from what he saw.

"Happy Bonfire Night," said Albus to Harvey in the Prefects meeting several hours later. "We should probably keep an eye out tonight – some students might have been inspired by Guy Fawkes to blow something up. I had to confiscate a few Filibuster fireworks during breakfast this morning when the owls came in…_Remember, remember the fifth of November, the gunpowder, treason and plot…I know of no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot_…"

Harvey had learnt about Guy Fawkes in History while attending a muggle school, and was impressed that Albus, who wasn't muggleborn, knew as much. "Is there anything you don't know?" he said good-naturedly. "Or what is it about muggle history that interests you?"

"Oh I'm interested in muggle history, all right," said Albus, reading Harvey's thoughts. "_Fawkes at midnight, and by torchlight there was found, with long matches and devices, underground_. I must say, I like the name 'Fawkes'. I'm not sure why; it has a certain quality of rolling off one's tongue, like …"

Seeing that the other boy's face looked slightly flushed, Harvey judged that Albus was about to say his own name. But Harvey said nothing, apart from reassuring him that all would be calm on the Hufflepuff front.

**H.R.**

Harvey decided to negotiate a group project in Herbology, working with Phyllida, whom he knew he could rely on, as well as Albus, Delta and Cathy. They were going to profile the most highly endangered water plants of Scotland. "You'll do Gillyweed," Delta had delegated. Sometimes, she reminded Harvey of a particular horse he had once had the misfortune to meet – tougher than her own shoes, and unwilling to accept that you were her master – because she was her own mistress.

He strode purposefully towards the library, and who should he see but…

"Artemis! Are you researching group project too?" Harvey sat down opposite his friend.

"Yes," he said.

Harvey was wondering what he had done to deserve only single-word replies. "Well, what did you choose? Is this for Care of Magical Creatures?"

"No, Transfiguration."

He thought a bit of prompting in the form of praise might be in order. "Excellent! I want do to Potions and I know I'm doing Herbology – with whom are you doing yours?"

"Couple of Slytherins."

"Are you serious? You're brilliant! How did you get them to work with you? I always thought Slytherins wanted nothing to do with us!"

"No," said Artemis.

"They're not possibly plotting anything, are they?" asked Harvey teasingly. "You know Slytherins and their reputations…"

"No. We're the second-raters, remember? We're too dim for your political games." He got up from the table, taking the huge copy of _Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration_ to the librarian's desk with the intention of borrowing it.

* * *

_**A/N: Cabaret -**** Maybe This Time I'll Get A Review  
****Maybe this time,  
I'll be lucky,  
Maybe this time you'll stay...  
Maybe this time,  
For the first time,  
You won't hurry away...**_

_**(You'll follow the footsteps of BonniDolle, HiddenDepths-x, ShadowMoonDancer, Shubie, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, deeps85, nighteyes00, sunny88, aaaaaaannnnnddd...)**_

_**You'll review at last!  
Tell me what's a blast (and what's not)  
Not a loser,  
Anymore,  
Like the last time and  
The time before… **__**  
**_

And guys: now you know who the woman in the Hog's Head was, and why certain people last year were asked to "have a word" with McValley! Ain't that exciting? I hope this chapter has both solved and set up a couple of mini-mysteries for you! (Hint, hint: Discussion and Reflection Groups, just like the kind in my medical school, are a primitive method of mind control.)


	10. Chapter 9: Harvey: My Spectre

**My Spectre. Poem by William Blake, Chapter 9 by Harvey.**

_"My Spectre around me night and day  
Like a Wild beast guards my way,  
My Emanation far within  
Weeps incessantly for my Sin  
A Fathomless and boundless deep  
There we wander there we weep  
On the hungry craving wind  
My Spectre follows thee behind  
He scents thy footsteps in the snow  
Wheresoever thou dost go  
Thro' the wintry hail & rain:  
When wilt thou return again?"_

_You are so glad to be a part of Hufflepuff House; they are probably the most accepting people in the whole wizarding world. This is why both you and Artemis belong there. From the first day you meet, you two balance each other out. Artemis may be earthy and languid, while you are always bursting with energy, and "unafraid of toil" as the Sorting Hat said. Artemis comes from a famous pureblood family, while you are a little nobody. _

**H.R.**

Harvey was used to not seeing much of Artemis during the Quidditch season; as long as he had his hands on a broomstick he could keep his mind off their quickly crumbling friendship. Even if they had possibly the worst team in the history of Hogwarts, as he quickly realised in their match against Slytherin.

"Captains, shake hands. And I would like a nice, clean game from all of you, please." said Madam Silvers, once both teams had gathered around. "Now, mount your brooms." Harvey climbed onto his beloved Oakshaft.

"Three, two, one…"

There was a loud blast of a whistle and fourteen brooms rose into the air.

"And they're off!" said Marcus Prewett, a sixth-year Gryffindor who was in charge of the commentary. "Eridanus Prince takes the Quaffle immediately, passes it to fellow Slytherin Chaser Moira Malfoy, oooh, narrowly misses a bludger from Hufflepuff Beater Bernadette Bones – oh – now Hufflepuff have possession! Harvey Ridgebit's moving fast, he's going to sc – no, a superb Save from seventh-year Keeper and Captain, Sirius Black! And the Slytherins have the Quaffle again! Malfoy gets going, ouch, that bludger most definitely _has got_ to hurt! But nevertheless, SLYTHERIN SCORE!"

Cheers exploded from the section of the stands featuring the huge serpentine "S".

"And the other Slytherin Chaser, Hazel Rookwood, has the Quaffle, as she speeds off towards the goalposts. But Keeper Russell-Davies stops her! Passes to Olivia Monaghan, Hufflepuff Chaser. She ducks to avoid a Bludger from Brutus Burke – haha, notice Hufflepuff and Slytherin Beaters have identical initials? Sorry – anyway, she shoots, SHE SCORES!"

Russell-Davies punched the air, and gave a great, "YAWP!" which was most unlike him, and more like something Black might have done. They were spurred on.

"Hufflepuff lead, thirty to twenty!"shouted Prewett. They had hope. "But wait – what's that – Slytherin Seeker, Phineas Black, has gotten going – has he seen the Snitch?"

Phineas Black dived, and the Anastasia Pink, the Hufflepuff Seeker, followed suit, thinking he was tailing the Snitch. But the Slytherin Seeker pulled out sharply, and as Anastasia wasn't endowed with as advanced a broom as he was, she crashed into the pitch. He had just pulled off a Wronski Feint, and Harvey felt a pang of jealousy.

And just in the same way as that, it was over.

Harvey let out a long, deep sigh after leaving the Quidditch Pitch. They had lost, one hundred and ninety to forty, moving down to the bottom of the ranks. And as if things couldn't get any worse, he caught sight of Phineas disgustingly frolicking with Hesper Starky.

_There should be a school rule against Public Displays of Affection_, he thought. _The_ _braggart..._

**H.R.**

Harvey's least favourite prefect duty was patrolling the corridors. Tonight, McValley had rostered him on to chase students away from the seventh floor and back into their dormitories for a whole two hours. But no-one usually went up to the seventh floor, so he paced it lonesomely, stopping only for awhile to examine tapestries like that of Barnabas the Barmy, the medieval wizard who had decided it would be a good idea to try to train trolls for the ballet. Harvey chortled to himself.

To his astonishment, he heard a door in the wall opposite opening, and whirled around to see Artemis clamber out.

"What – where is that? And what were you doing there?" Harvey interrogated his friend, momentarily forgetting to be polite in the face of yet another secret of Hogwarts castle.

"Group project," said Artemis. "We need to meet on neutral ground, and the library doesn't do because we need to talk. Just a quiet and convenient room."

At least he had Artemis talking in more than monosyllables. "Oh, very well then," Harvey said, "just make sure you're back in the dorm by eleven – you know – lights out – fifteen minutes more – your Slytherin friends will make sure they head back, right?"

"They've - they've already gone," said Artemis, his curt tone disintegrating before Harvey's eyes.

"Excellent, I think I'll be heading back there too soon, want to go now? I don't think there's anyone else here. We need to talk – catch up – what have you been doing with yourself lately?"

"This place is vile, and so is its creator," Artemis said, looking around at the walls of the corridor. "I can't wait to get out of here, to find somewhere they don't keep people apart for no good reason."

**H.R.**

Harvey was unable to squeeze much more out of Artemis, so he thought he would surprise the boy on the seventh-floor corridor on a day that wasn't his. "Please…could…I'll swap you a few Wednesday nights now," he said to a sixth-year prefect, Kenneth Potter, "If you'll do these Thursday night patrols in the lead-up to OWLs?"

Kenneth, apart from being rather good-looking, much more so than his older siblings Beatrix and Betram, and an exceptionally good Gryffindor Chaser, was a very reasonable boy. "Certainly, I understand – what a good idea! Would you like to do the same thing next year when I have NEWTs?"

"Of course," said Harvey, already on his way up the nearest staircase.

He walked up and down the corridor with the picture of Barnabas being clubbed by the trolls, but even though he tried his best, he could not find any sign of a door.

But they came – Brutus Burke, the Beater, who also took Care of Magical Creatures with Harvey, and three other Slytherins – Vindici Lestrange, Ursula Fowl, Francesca Travers and Artemis – talking in whispers. They strolled back and forth along the corridor.

"Just using Ursula's pet Tarantula didn't work…"

"A bird-eating spider might be hairy enough…"

"Where would we get one from?"

"We could always go with cross-species instead…"

"How long will we have to keep it alive for?"

"No idea – when we negotiated the project outcomes we made it sound like it was going to be purely theoretical."

And then the door appeared out of nowhere, and they scrambled in. Harvey snatched a glimpse of mounds of clutter before they slammed it behind them, the picture swam in front of his eyes and when he blinked, it vanished.

**H.R.**

They were due for a Prefects' meeting; Harvey knew he was early as the spiral staircase carried him up to McValley's office, but he was hoping to get it quickly over and done with, and perhaps if everyone was there they could have an early night.

The great oak door, with the new griffon knocker which McValley had installed, was ajar, and there was music coming out of it. Harvey stopped, not wanting to intrude on McValley's private time. But then McValley started talking, as if to another person, which spurred his interest. He peeped through the narrow crack.

"It's actually a music box," said McValley, indicating something that looked like a miniature fountain, except instead of water cascading down, there was a silvery fluid flowing down the steps of the waterfall. "It runs on…"

"Memories," said Albus Dumbledore. It looked like he was alone in the room, and there were tears glistening on his cheeks.

_What was McValley doing to his favourite student to upset him like that?_

"That's right," said McValley, using his wand to siphon off the silver material and replace it in a vial kept nearby. "Go on, put one in," said McValley. "Oh never mind – let me. I think I know what you might like." He gently closed his eyes, touched his left temple with his wand, and when he withdrew it, a silvery substance came with it. He added it to the topmost tier.

"Oh! Bizet's _Carmen_!" cried Albus, as McValley started singing along to the soaring operatic music. Music was the life blood of Albus, and Cathy too. McValley had a stunning voice; it seemed so much younger than his fifty or so years, and it immediately lifted the mood in the room.

Albus didn't need to ask; he took McValley's wand and did the same, choosing a memory of a piano piece. They listened in silence, Albus turning the wand over in his fingers, eventually replacing it on the table and walking past McValley to the window.

McValley shut his eyes again. "Of course – you _would_ be a Mozart fan. Theme and variations. Sonata in A Major. I suppose you can play it already as well?"

"Yes."

The clock struck nine, as Harvey knocked on the door, gripping the griffin tightly as if he wanted to break it. _So - McValley could sing too. Was there anything he __couldn't __do? No wonder Bobbie – Delta – __said __that all the time; __it was __true..._

"Can you?" asked Albus.

"Oh, no, definitely not," said McValley. "I couldn't play a piano to save my life. I'm a violinist all the way."

"And a singer too?"

"Perhaps," said McValley.

**H.R.**

But, he wouldn't have been nearly as harsh if he'd known that it was the night Albus's father had passed away. Some students had been of the "good riddance" opinion, thinking he was no loss, but Harvey knew better, being sure that wrong convictions were as rampant in the magical world as the muggle one.

Cursing himself for his insensitivity – he was proud that he was generally able to read people the way Albus read books, and respond appropriately – he chased the boy down after Charms one day. Harvey ran ahead of him, opening the door to a broom cupboard. "Al! In here!" They climbed in and shut the door behind them.

"I'm all right, really, Harvey, don't worry about me," he reassured Harvey. "I've been expecting it for a long time; Azkaban weakens all its inmates, and my father's health was never good."

"Much like your sister's," said Harvey, remembering little Ariana, who was too frail for school.

Albus nodded. "I'm more afraid for my brother."

"Aberforth?" Harvey had seen the second-year boy, who was a shorter and stockier version of Albus, several times before. He had had to give Aberforth detention twice – once for brawling in the corridors, and once for wandering around out of hours (from the way he smelled, Harvey guessed he had been rolling around in the dirt outside).

Albus started to cry; Harvey put his arms around his shoulders and Albus pressed him close, their foreheads touching.

"If you ever need to talk to me," Harvey said, letting go of the grief-stricken boy, "just come in here, and I will find you."

"And how will you manage that?" he asked. Harvey thought Albus might have been smiling despite the wetness of his eyes and cheeks that he could feel.

"Your Patronus," he said. "I've seen what yours can do; it's faster than an owl. I'll know that you're waiting for me in the third floor broom cupboard. It's like a real creature, with the power of speech…it's so much more than a phoenix, it's…a phantom, that follows you everywhere, and does your bidding."

* * *

_**A/N: **__**Blondie – Reviews Are Few But I'm Holding On I**__**  
It's not the things you do that tease and make me sad  
**__**But it's the reviews you forget to give to me  
**__**I'm not the kinda girl who gives up just like that**__**  
Oh no!**_

_**Reviews are few but I'm holding on**__**  
I'm gonna be your number one!  
**__**I'm not the kind of girl who gives up just like tha-at. **__**Oh no-o-o-o-oh!**_

The above verses do not apply to the wonderful **Shubie**, **WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot**, **eumuroo**, **deeps85**, **sunny88**, "**Anon**" and **RainbowRainbird** who left a review in the last chapter!

For Easter, I would like a chocolate-coated Harvey wrapped in gold tinfoil. That's a special clue for those of you who have bothered to read this far! Also, I swear upon my life that this chapter is far more significant than any of you could possibly predict. In contrast, I don't like Artemis, for obvious reasons...in my head, he's not very well-formed. Do you guys hate McValley yet? By the time Harvey's part in the tale is done, you probably will. See you soon!


	11. Chapter 10: Harvey: The Lamb

**The Lamb. Poem by William Blake, Chapter 10 by Harvey**

_Little Lamb, who made thee?  
Dost thou know who made thee?  
Gave thee life, & bid thee feed  
By the stream & o'er the mead;  
Gave thee clothing of delight,  
Softest clothing, wooly, bright;  
Gave thee such a tender voice,  
Making all the vales rejoice?  
Little Lamb, who made thee?  
Dost thou know who made thee?_

_T__hen again, strictly speaking you probably aren't living proof that "opposites attract", since you and Artemis are both fairly softly-spoken, and you both like helping people. In first and second year you both thought you would become Healers, but by fourth year it became apparent that your marks mightn't be good enough, since they require at least E at NEWT level in Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. So now, you are looking into caring for animals, which works well, because you took Care of Magical Creatures, and Artemis is thinking of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. _

**H.R.**

The class filed in and filled up the groups of desks of five as Professor Llewellyn, Head of Ravenclaw House and Transfiguration teacher, leapt off the table in her Eagle Animagus form, and stood up at the front of the room in her human form.

"As you are all geniuses," she said, "I am sure you will recall my brief mention of Animagi in third year. This year, we are going to delve into the actual mechanics of Human Transfiguration, which will aid you greatly in OWLs, since you will have sufficient knowledge to _understand_ the process, not merely quote a few lines from a textbook. Who can give us some examples of types of Human transfiguration, apart from Animagi?"

"Partial Transfiguration," Albus spoke up first, as usual. "For example, transfiguring a human head into a fish head to allow one to breathe underwater, or as in Malecrit's play, 'Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds – Alas, I have Transfigured my Feet', or sometimes accidents can cause partial Transfiguration, since small and as yet untrained children have been known to spontaneously sprout wings."

"Very good, take five points for Gryffindor, Mr Dumbledore. But all the examples you have given point to a wizard or witch transfiguring him or herself. Does anyone know of a famous example where a wizard or witch has attempted to transfigure another human being?

Harvey knew his _Care of Magical Creatures_ textbook back-to-front, and wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. "The legend of the MacBoons and the McCliverts, two clans inhabiting the Isle of Drear in the most northern part of Scotland," he began. "It is said that after a drunken duel between the two wizard chiefs of the clans, Dugald McClivert and Quintius MacBoon, Dugald was killed, and seeking revenge, the MacCliverts surrounded the MacBoon village one night and transfigured every MacBoon into a reddish-brown, probably because of their original hair colour, five-legged, monstrous creature. Unfortunately this made the MacBoons more dangerous and vicious than before. They not only resisted all attempts to Untransfigure them, but also ate every last one of the McCliverts until no being capable of wielding a wand remained on the Isle of Drear, thus killing off their last chance to return to human form. Today, Drear has been made Unplottable, because of the monstrous Quintapeds that inhabit it."

"Excellent, Mr Ridgebit! I couldn't have retold the legend better myself – take ten points for Hufflepuff!"

Albus beamed at him, and Phyllida patted his shoulder, saying, "Brilliant!"

"Miss Carlton, do you have something to add?" Professor Llewellyn asked Cathy.

"And there is the more modern story of Mirabella Plunkett too. Aged nineteen, while holidaying near Loch Lomond in Scotland she fell in love with a local merman – or Selkie, as they are called in the part of the world – but her parents forbade her to marry him. So she transfigured herself into a Haddock."

Nobody could stop themselves from laughing afterwards, not even Cathy herself. Harvey was strongly reminded of Artemis – who might have told the story, but would have thought it deadly serious and been mortified that people had laughed, because he was so sensitive.

After class, he found himself head-hunted by two Slytherins and two Ravenclaws. "I know it's late, but we need one more person for our Group Assignment for Charms. Would you be happy to do something with us for Charms?" asked Hazel Rookwood.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Cheering charms," said Hesper Starky. "Simple yet never done in enough detail!"

It really was a brilliant feeling.

**H.R.**

OWLs.

OWLs.

OWLs.

They were more than half a year away and still they struck terror into Harvey. He'd just written to his parents to tell them he would be spending Christmas at Hogwarts so that he could catch up with work.

_Ordinary._

How could something so torturous be _ordinary_?

_Wizarding._

Harvey laughed inside, thinking how biased they were to say Wizarding and ignore Witching. Delta wouldn't like that.

_Levels._

To work at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures at the Ministry of Magic you needed a few very strategic top-grade NEWTs. But to even be allowed to sit to those Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests you had to get past the prerequisite level. And when he was competing with people like those he was sharing his library table with – Phineas Black, Athena Attwood-Plath, Hazel Rookwood and Hesper Starky – he didn't have a lot of hope.

Harvey rested his forehead against his palms, leaning forward and knocking his elbows painfully on the table, not in the mood to copy out sentences about Felix Summerbee and his fifteenth-century work on Cheering Charms.

"Are you all right, Harvey?" asked Hesper.

"Headache," he said, honestly.

He really had it coming; she pointed her wand at him. "This should get your mind off it, _Felicitate_…"

Harvey thought, hadn't he read the lovely-sounding words, "Felix Summerbee" somewhere before? Oh yes – a chocolate frog card! _Of course._

_Felix Summerbee (1447 – 1508)_

_Inventor of Cheering Charms_

He had the image of that cheerful old man on the chocolate frog card in his head, and he smiled to himself as he wrote with enthused gusto. _One day I might even be on one of these._

Even when he saw Phineas reaching for Hesper, he thought, _"Oh how lovely, they're in love, that's so sweet, I'm so happy for them!"_

**H.R.**

As it was every year, Hogwarts had a white Christmas, which closed off all chances of flying practice during the holidays, but opened up the possibility of splendid snowball fights. He got up at six o'clock on Christmas Day, eager to see what it had brought him this year. His mother had sent him a hand-knitted jumper in yellow and black with a large "H" on it and some matching mittens, his father had enclosed a muggle motivational book and a calendar decorated with dragons for the new year, and his ten-year-old sister had made him a batch of cookies, which, although Harvey was very touched by, was not sure if it was edible.

As for his friends, he had a Puddlemere United poster from Delta, a little book called _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_ from Albus, a Pocket Sneakoscope from Phyllida, a large, fancy quill and sketch of himself riding a dragon from Cathy, and copious amounts of candy from Phineas, Vanessa, Peter, Olivia, Bernie…he dug through the stack but only found a card and a single chocolate frog from Artemis. What a far cry from last year. Even McValley had sent each of his prefects a packet of Acid Pops.

Harvey wound his way out of the Common Room, through the floors of Hogwarts and out into the glorious grounds. He strongly considered throwing a snowball at the window of the Hufflepuff dormitory, since he knew that he had left a sleeping Artemis in there, but in the end he decided not to.

However, when he got back to the common room, Artemis was nowhere to be found within the earthy realms of the Hufflepuffs. "Did you see Artemis?" he asked Phyllida.

"No, I never see him these days, and when I do, he gets all huffy and secretive. You'd think he was one of those Slytherins…" she stopped herself and lowered her voice. "Not like Phineas, of course," she corrected. "You know," she lowered her voice, "his younger brother Arcturus isn't talking to him?"

Harvey already knew. He climbed back out of the portrait hole again, his mind full, accidentally walking through the ghost of the Fat Friar, the sensation of which Harvey likened to jumping headfirst into the Lake in winter.

"Harvey! Where are you off to this crisp Christmas morning?"

Then he got an idea; if anyone would know, if anyone would be generously willing enough to tell him, it would be the Friar. "Friar, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Harvey."

"What can be found on the seventh floor? Why would someone go there?"

"There are no actual classrooms there," said the Friar. "Well, none that have been used for many years. But there is one very interesting room there, it is known as the 'Room of Requirement' or the 'Come and Go' room. I believe it was Rowena Ravenclaw's secret addition to the Hogwarts architecture."

"Oh? Rowena Ravenclaw's secret addition?"

"Yes, according to legend, each of the four Founders put in a secret which they hoped their students would uncover. As you probably know, Slytherin added…"

"The Chamber of Secrets. What did Hufflepuff add?"

"Ah, _that _is a secret," said the Friar, beaming from silver ear-to-ear. "But you wanted to know about the seventh floor – the Room of Requirement? Its ingenuity is that it appears when the seeker has a real need of it. And so, the ghosts cannot get in at all – which is probably why Rowena built it – to escape the ghosts of her past – you know, the Grey Lady, her daughter, and the Baron, who should have been her son-in-law. Oh look, I digress again."

"That's all right."

"Ah you must be used to it," the Friar nodded. "With your good friend Artemis. Bless him. He really is exceedingly fond of you. But my word, I have not seen him around much these holidays though, he must be working jolly hard for the Ordinary Wizarding Levels! But, that is how the Room of Requirement works – you merely need to pace the corridor, with your need in mind, and the door to it will appear. And its appearance will depend on what you ask of it."

"Thank you so much, Friar! A very Merry Christmas to you," said Harvey, bowing.

"For that, I will tell you the Hufflepuff secret – are you familiar with the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor? If you tap it with your wand and say 'Dissendium', it will open up into a secret passageway into Honeydukes! You know, the sweet shop in Hogsmeade? There you go, I wish you could see your own delighted little hazel eyes now! A present that you will never forget, that you will never tire of – Merry Christmas, Harvey!"

Harvey sprinted up the multiple flights of stairs to the seventh floor and walked back and forth.

_I need to see where Artemis comes every night_.

He walked back and forth three times. There was still no door.

_I need to learn what Artemis and his friends are doing._

He walked back and forth six whole times, but he wasn't prepared to give up.

_I need to find the secret hiding-place._

And on his seventh go, he found the door.

Inside was the expansive room he had ever seen – Harvey was sure it was bigger than the Great Hall – a gargantuan labyrinth containing more piles of clutter than he could ever have imagined from the few glimpses – which had been more like "glimps" anyway, since they were so unbelievably short, which he had snatched when Artemis or the Slytherins opened the door.

The junk was so extensive that the very walls of the Room of Requirement seemed to be made of it; most prominent were the large pieces of furniture, ranging from broken armchairs to stuffed trolls. Then there were books and bottles of every shape and size. There were strange pieces of clothing that looked as if they had witnessed a few hundred years, as well as jewels and weapons. He also recognised various items off the list of Banned Objects that he had been given in his first Prefects' Meeting – hovering clouds of Fanged Frisbees, boxes of Dungbombs, vials of Love Potions, which made Harvey laugh and think of Professor Tugwood, the Potions Mistress, and crates of fireworks.

He must have given the room the wrong directions, he thought. Who would want to study in a room like this? He had imagined something small and cosy, or perhaps a board-room with a long, grand table.

He was just about to turn around and leave, until his attention was caught by the sound of something rattling from within a massive, isolated broom cupboard. He ran up to it and pressed his ear against the aged and blistered wood. There was something inside making a plaintive little cry, a bird perhaps. Harvey was filled simultaneously with pity for the unfortunate creature, shut up and kept in the dark, and with hatred for whoever put it there.

He opened the deep cupboard, inside which a cage had been set up. It was very dark in there, but he could make out the beak and few mottled feathers of an exceptionally large quail. He used the simple _Alohomora_ charm on the cage, and the bird hopped out, limping slightly, on what looked like a couple of very spindly legs. It began to forage in the refuse, probably looking for something to eat. Having felt he had accomplished something good on this Christmas day, Harvey left the Room of Requirement.

**H.R.**

Their classes resumed more rigorously than before; even the fifth-year Ravenclaws could be heard complaining about the post-holiday workload. Every minute until eleven o'clock curfew became immensely precious, and in fact, many fifth-years kept their books under their beds, so that they could continue studying into the early hours of the morning. Harvey knew, because people were showing up to class yawning and falling over their books. Except in Potions. That was going to be his third group project for this year.

Professor Sacharissa Tugwood, the young Potions mistress – rumour had it she was barely twenty – had a surprisingly husky sort of voice; he had overheard the Slytherin Quidditch team mentioning they thought she _sounded_ like a _man_.

"Potions that increase the drinker's strength," she wrote on the board with a flick of her wand. Her writing was slim and elegant, with little flourishes here and there. Table number three?"

In this class, they had been arranged into groups of desks in alphabetical order. Harvey had ended up with Phyllida, Hazel, Hesper and a Ravenclaw boy called Emeric Switch.

"Strengthening solution," said Hesper enthusiastically, before anyone had registered the question. "And the Invigoration Draught. And the Fortifying Concoction." Another thing Hesper always said out-of-class was that Tugwood reminded her of a fresh and pretty German girl.

"Yes – they are the three kinds which are examinable at OWL level."

Professor Tugwood was extremely tall for a woman, and came complete with fashionable golden ringlets and large eyes not quite as green as McValley's. She generally wore pastel robes, unlike most of the teachers, who stuck to dark or drab colours. She also always wore gloves – though as she explained in her first class, she encouraged them to do so as well, not because of fashion, but to protect their hands from toxic potions and ingredients. All her students had been only too keen to have an excuse to copy her.

Just one fleeting sideways glance at Emeric, and one across the room at Albus, told Harvey that they were probably thinking the same thing, and it evidently wasn't about the types of potions that could increase a drinker's strength.

* * *

_**A/N: Atomic Kitten – Reviews Are Few But I'm Holding On**__** II  
Everytime that I get reviews in  
You give me something to believe in**__**  
Everytime that I see you're with me**__**  
I know the way that I want it to be**__**  
Guess I'm gonna have to take a chance now  
**__**I'm gonna make it happen somehow**__**  
Though without you I can't take the pressure**__**  
Because your words give me so much pleasure**_

**WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot** was right when she said that Harvey's a typical boy, and **Shubie**'s theories are slowly getting warm. And thank you for your poem, **Stef**! 

I know the Tugwood thing came out of nowhere, but now it's all the more likely to disappear suddenly when something better comes up. And hey guys, you now know why Dumbledore says, "I enjoy acid pops". Are you excited? I am!


	12. Chapter 11: Harvey: A Poison Tree

A Poison Tree. Poetry by William Blake, Chapter 11 by Harvey.

"_I was angry with my friend  
I was told my wrath, my wrath did end.  
I was angry with my foe:  
I told it not, my wrath did grow:_

_And I water'd it in fears,  
Night and morning with my tears;  
And I sunned it with smiles,  
And with soft deceitful wiles._

_And it grew both day and night,  
Till it bore an apple bright,  
And my foe beheld it shine,  
And he knew that it was mine…"_

_You are finally back for your fifth year at Hogwarts – it's difficult to believe how much and how quickly everything apart from your ambitions has changed too. From __M__uggle-born boy who doesn't know anything, you are now Hufflepuff prefect, along with Phyllida Spore, whom everyone knows is in the same academic league as the likes of Dumbledore in Herbology. But Artemis hasn't been in your classes for a year, except for Care of Magical Creatures, since that awful McValley abolished House-based classes, and you suspect things may have altered between the two of you, particularly since you clap him on the back like an old chum and all he does is say, "Congratulations, I heard the news."_

_On your way to the Prefects' Carriage on the Hogwarts Express, bitterness seethes within you. But you contain all your hatred of McValley as you lift your head to the seven students in there._

**H.R.**

Harvey had forgotten about the cold war between him and Artemis, in the _wonderful_ experience that was the impending doom of the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the upcoming end of the Quidditch season and of course his infatuation with Tugwood. So it was a shock when Artemis came to him one day and asked if he was free to talk.

"What is it?"

"Nothing…I just wanted to find out…how things were…maybe ask your advice on something or other…you know, do what friends do…"

"Well, I'm guessing you're getting worked up about the OWLs. I'm a little worried about the OWLs, particularly about Herbology – I mean Professor Price doesn't seem to be teaching us – the other day she refused to answer my question about the growth of Snorgluff Pods, and instead told me that I would get far more satisfaction if I looked the answers up myself – I'm thinking she took this Self-Directed Learning theory of McValley's a bit too far." Harvey realised he was rambling. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to take that all out on you at once, but how do you feel…?" Makepeace's repetitive catchphrase made him slightly ill, but it was something Artemis would know how to respond to – after all, he did during every Reflection Session.

"I'm…all right. Not bad, not good, just all right."

"Group project finished, I take it?"

"Sorry?"

Harvey couldn't afford to have Artemis talking in single-word sentences again, so he resolved to elaborate upon every point. "I understand people have been getting pretty stressed about their group projects – they're – icky – little things, aren't they? I thought you sounded relieved, relaxed even, and so I thought perhaps you had all yours in."

"They're not too bad."

"What have you got left?"

"Only Transfiguration."

"I never asked you before; what are you doing for that one?"

"Animal and Human transfiguration."

"Wow! That sounds really interesting! A fair bit of history there, right?"

"Actually, Ursula Fowl came up with the idea because she figured it could be used for Care of Magical Creatures as well."

"I didn't know you could do that!" Harvey felt scandalized. "So you can use one group project to cover _two_ different subjects?"

"Well, nobody technically said we couldn't, just because we, the second-raters thought of it first, doesn't mean you have to…"

_He lied! Covering two subjects with one project – and he never told me about it! He said he was just doing Transfiguration! _

Harvey didn't think reconciliation was going to go anywhere, as all the pent-up frustration from the past months poured out of him. The rest of their conversation was conducted in single-word sentences. Anger boiled within him like the poison they had been brewing an antidote for earlier that day. He was also fiercely reminded of a Blake poem which McValley had shown them in third year, called "A Poison Tree".

"_And into the garden stole,  
When the night had veil'd the pole:  
In the morning glad I see  
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree."_

**H.R.**

Harvey was late for patrolling the corridors, but he'd been held up at Quidditch practice. The nights were getting shorter and warmer, and Peter had developed a way to make the tennis balls, which replaced the Quaffle during practices, as luminous as fireflies. The only downside to this was that they were attractive enough to be distracting.

"Oh come on, Peter, don't be such a killjoy!" Bernie had said, when Peter reprimanded her for attempting to juggle three tennis balls in the background while he explained the strategy called the Hawkshead Attacking Formation to the Chasers by shaking her so hard she nearly fell off her broom. Harvey had struggled to comfort the two crying Chaser girls – Olivia and Xanthe – who were cracking under Peter's tirades that it was now his seventh and final year, and his last chance to not have to have last place in Quidditch.

Feeling emotionally drained already, Harvey hurried up to the seventh floor, and slipped in something. He swore, thinking that some bored fourth-years had decided to make the sewerage system regurgitate again. But then he looked at his feet.

Thank heavens he wasn't the kind who fainted at the sight of blood.

There was Artemis, slumped against the picture of Barnabas the Barmy, bleeding profusely from a gash on his forearm.

"ARTEMIS! Oh my god, ARTEMIS, what have you done?"

"I did it, Harvey, I did it," he sighed happily.

"Did what? Did what? Artemis, you can't die on me now, I was an idiot for pushing you away like that; suicide is one of the greatest sins, talk to me! What is it?"

"I'm…not…going…to…die, what are you talking about? It's just a scratch."

"I…am…not…going…to…leave…you," said Harvey, mustering his strength, calling upon the happiest moments which he had shared with Artemis. "EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he 

bellowed, as a giant seal burst out of his wand, and swam through the air and down towards stairs.

He prayed that Albus would understand when the Patronus came to him.

After what seemed like eternity, Albus came running up those same stairs. "Harvey?"

His voice dropped half an octave, and his face changed colour. "Oh…oh my god…" Harvey grabbed onto his hand, and wished he had brought another person.

_On cue, who should show up?_

Cathy didn't say a word at first; she just flew to Artemis' side without a thought. She whipped off her Ravenclaw tie and knotted it around the boy's wrist.

"McValley," said Albus, looking slightly less uneasy now that the blood had been reduced from a fountain to an insidious stain. "We've got to get him to McValley."

"What, before we take him to the Hospital Wing?" asked Harvey, as Albus conjured a stretcher out of mid-air.

"Yes," Albus stressed very firmly, as he levitated Artemis onto the stretcher. "He fixed my nose with a wave of his wand when I was a first year."

"My brother is a doctor," said Cathy, in a matter-of-fact tone. "He told me that if the blood is gushing out of a wound like that, an artery has been opened, so you need…"

"I should have known how to do that," Harvey realised aloud to Cathy, as the three of them walked down the corridor, towards the sets of stairs that would take them to McValley's office. "Common sense. But…I froze…it was as if I couldn't think straight…"

"But I didn't think either," said Cathy. "I don't know what came over me. It must have been instinct."

_Animal instinct, I presume_, thought Harvey.

Cathy continued. "McValley always says that once we get emotionally involved with someone, we lose that ability to read them like books...what was once not easy, even if you had natural ability, like you do, Harvey, becomes impossible…and I know how close you were…are to Artemis."

"Artemis?" asked Albus, "Who did this to you?"

"Nemo," said Artemis.

"He's delirious," said Albus. "Nemo means 'no one' in Latin."

"It was Nemo," Artemis repeated himself. "I did it, except then he got me when I had stuck my hand in to feed him, and he pulled me in, and I don't know how I managed to get my hand out of his jaws – I never expected those jaws to be so strong!"

"What is Nemo?" asked Albus.

"He's a Quin-Quintaped," replied Artemis.

"There's no such thing as a Quintaped," said Albus. "You must have imagined it – who was the last _human_ you set eyes on?" to Harvey, he muttered, "Memory modification, I suspect."

They had come to the moving spiral staircase. Harvey's hands were shaking as he knocked the griffin-shaped door knocker, and Cathy called out, "Professor McValley, are you still awake?"

"_My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now._" They pushed their way in. McValley was sitting at his desk, his legs crossed carelessly so that his loosely-tied dressing gown fell open, revealing fairly unexciting pyjamas of navy blue, and a pair of red socks.

"What happened?" asked McValley, suddenly aware of the almost-unconscious boy lying on a stretcher hovering a foot above the ground, and his voice changed from being his usual whimsical one.

With one wand flick, he removed the bandages, and with a second flick, he sealed the wound. He then strode over to one of the cabinets in the circular room, brought out two flasks of potions – one red, and one purple, and tipped the red one down Artemis' throat.

"Blood-replenishing potion," he explained, "And the other one is for dreamless sleep. His body needs time to repair itself, but first I need to find out how he got it…and judging by your looks, you have as much idea as I do…" McValley placed his hands on Artemis' temples and looked straight into the boy's large, frightened, generously lashed, gentle brown eyes, which reminded one of a cow.

"I see," said McValley, now placing one palm on Artemis' forehead, which made Artemis' breathing deeper and more regular. "Drink this, it will allow you to forget, to sleep, perchance to dream…"

"That's from _Hamlet_, isn't it? And before it was..." Cathy's little voice faded.

"Will the three of you consent to accompanying me to what I think is known as the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor? You must speak of this to no-one, obviously. In fact, I'll put a Binding Spell on you for your own safety, so that even if someone interrogates you about it, you won't be able to answer them." He dipped the tip of his wand in some of Artemis' blood. "Wands please, Albus, Cathy and Harvey." He then touched the tip of his wand with theirs. "The other way to do it is to drink his blood, but I didn't think you would find it appetizing."

It would be the longest night of Harvey's life, finding Nemo, he thought, as they went back to the accursed corridor. If he ever was privileged enough to redecorate Hogwarts, his first act would be to remove the damned troll ballet painting.

Harvey supposed McValley had managed to glean how to work the Room of Requirement by reading Artemis' mind. Something about that sent chills down his spine, and he wrapped his school robes around him more tightly than ever.

"In here, if you please," said McValley, when the door opened up to the maze of refuse. Harvey, Albus and Cathy followed him to the scorched and blistered wooden cupboard. "Stand back," he commanded them, as he pointed his wand at the cupboard doors, and they flew open.

The three of them were too scared to scream; they stood there, petrified, rooted to the spot, transfixed by the sight in front of them. A monstrous spider stuck its huge, club-footed legs, covered in dark red fur, out of the bars of its cage and emitted a guttural growl, snapping its great jaws.

"Care to count the feet, Cathy?" asked McValley. But it was plain to see, now that the monster was rearing itself onto its back three legs and waving its front two around.

"They _do_ exist," said Albus, weakly. Cathy gripped him, stopping his knees from giving way. So she had learned a thing or two from Delta, Harvey thought, as he stared at the Quintaped.

The poor thing – how on earth had they brought it into the world? What poor animal had to be transfigured to bring the Quintaped to life?

_Oh god, was it a person?_

Was there…there had to be…any hope of Untransfiguring…

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" shouted McValley, with uneven hatred in his eyes, as a jet of green light hit the creature, making it fall limp. McValley waved his wand again, and the hairy body was reduced to a skeleton. He shut the cupboard door and walked away, as if he had just been making a cup of tea.

Harvey couldn't believe what had just happened. He fell to his knees, and threw up.

"It's better to be _dead_ than to be neglected," said McValley, already on the other side of the door.

**H.R.**

The next day mercifully was a Saturday; if it hadn't been, Harvey would have seriously considered going up to the Hospital Wing in order to not face any classes he had. Not even if it had been Care of Magical Creatures and Potions and Charms. In fact, in the pandemonium of last night, his obsession with Tugwood's hair had petered out.

But then, to make matters worse, when he ducked into the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping to pick up a piece of something and take it back to the common room to nibble, Albus approached him, and laid a hand over his. "McValley wants to see you after breakfast in his office."

"What – how – why?"

When he reached McValley's office, he found there was no need to lay a finger on that infernal griffin.

"Ah, Harvey, I didn't expect you to be up this early" said McValley. "You can come back later, if you want."

But Harvey had seen Artemis inside, and wasn't going to leave. McValley must have sensed his thoughts, because he said, "Your friend is already here. I kept him for the night just to observe him, in case he took a funny turn. You really don't have to…"

Harvey still said nothing, but walked into the room without any further invitation. "Harvey, sit down, please," McValley sighed, and drew up another chair with his wand in the air, which gently floated down onto the rug.

The two boys were now sitting in front of his desk. Harvey did his best to look McValley in the eyes, but the headmaster kept avoiding his piercing gaze. "_Damn you, old man_," Harvey thought, _"Won't you even have enough gall to look at me, let alone atone for what you have done, using an Unforgiveable Curse?"_

"I sense that Hogwarts isn't giving you what you need, Artemis." Harvey was chilled by McValley's overtly paternal voice. "Why did you come to school here?"

"I – my parents thought it was the best wizarding school in the world!"

Harvey wanted to know why McValley just didn't expel Artemis there and then if he so desired.

"No, no, I want to know why – what you want."

Artemis shut his eyes.

"I don't know."

"Well, given that you've been seeking banned materials, that you've been missing Reflection groups, that you've been conducting potentially fatal experiments in cupboards, that you've been dropping grades…I get the feeling you don't want to be here."

"No," whispered Harvey in a voice that no one could hear.

"Yes," said Artemis. "There's nothing for me here."

_NO!_ Harvey shouted in his head, his fingernails cutting into his palms. _NO! Art! You don't know what you're dealing with!_ Harvey couldn't, wouldn't believe that Artemis would desert him like this, entirely forgetting the person who had just saved his life.

"Artemis," said McValley, looking Artemis in the eye and turning his back to Harvey. "I'm going to suggest to you that perhaps you need some time away from school to have a think…take some time out after the OWLs…travel a bit? There is no point in slaving through the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests without your heart to guide you through…"

Harvey would never believe that the Artemis he knew had left of his own accord; he would tell everyone:

"…_Artemis was expelled. He got on the wrong side of McValley, starting in third year when he dropped his subject for Twonk's…"_

He would tell them that McValley had had it in for anyone whom he thought wasn't intelligent enough to deserve an education. Particularly those in Hufflepuff House; none of the Slytherins had been expelled – because they weren't in the Headmaster's least favourite house, and their families did have connections to the Ministry.

He would tell them about how they should have heard _him_ when he had had _him_ as a teacher in third-year. When he was reading some "old load of tosh" called Plato's Republic, and going on about how "the most worthy citizens of society" were those who had the "highest state of knowledge".

And last of all, he would tell them, "_You could see how much he enjoyed it as he told us how Plato though society should be ruled by these philosopher-kings and queens, of which he himself of course would be one. Kings and queens indeed. SOME people love the idea of it – you can't blame them. But I've seen the man play chess before – and may I say, it's frightening how good he is, and how seriously he takes his games." _

When McValley let them out of the incarcerating office, Harvey ran out the door into the sunlight, remembering the McValley of third year, the one who had brought Artemis and Harvey closer together, through their shared love of poetry. Especially Blake, he thought, as he ran into the muddy Hogwarts gardens.

* * *

_**A/N: Chicago - Reviews, And All That Jazz  
**__Slick your hair, and wear your buckle shoes,  
And all that jazz!  
I hear that Harvey boy is gonna love reviews  
And all that jazz!  
Come on babe, we're gonna bunny hug  
I bought some aspirin down at United Drug  
In case my writing's lame, causes you lots of pain  
So – please – review!_

The JKR bits which inspired this batch of chapters may be found in _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_, Chapter 24:

"_(Harry) opened one of the cupboard's creaking doors: It had already been used as a hiding place for something in a cage that had long since died; its skeleton had five legs. He stuffed the Half-Blood Prince's book behind the cage and slammed the door."  
_


	13. Chapter 12: Harvey: The Garden of Love

**The Garden of Love. Poem by William Blake, Chapter 12 by Harvey.**

"_I went to the Garden of Love  
__And saw what I Never had seen:__  
A Chapel was built in the midst  
Where I used to play on the green._

_And the gates of this Chapel were shut,__  
And "Thou Shalt Not" writ over the door  
__So I turn'd to the Garden of Love  
That so many sweet flowers bore,_

_And I saw it was filled with graves,__  
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:__  
And Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,  
And binding with briars my joys and desires."_

_Your housemate, Phyllida, is chatting away cordially with the Gryffindor prefects, Albus "Al" Dumbledore and Delta "Bobbie" Hitchens, whom you both know reasonably well from various classes, including Lexicology with McValley himself in third year. You smile at them. _

_Then the Ravenclaws and Slytherins stand up and introduce themselves – they've all forgotten your humble backgrounds, and you are very pleased with yourself – the Ravenclaw prefects are Hesper Starky and Libatius Borage, and the Slytherin prefects are Phineas Black and Hazel Rookwood, other familiar faces whom you have played in Quidditch. _

"_It's going to be a pleasure working with you," says Hesper courteously, and you hope it's going to be a good year._

**H.R.**

Harvey ran down to the stony path, well away from the castle. He picked up a rock next to him and threw it in the lake. Then another. And another.

A wild, dark head rose out of the water, and made a furious face at him. It was a merperson – and judging by his current geography, Harvey knew it was more properly called a selkie. He – Harvey assumed it was a male – opened his mouth and started to spout gibberish. The selkie jabbed a bony, sharp-nailed finger at the large rock he was sitting on, and made a sound at the back of his throat. And then Harvey noticed, he was wearing sort of necklace that looked as if it had been made out of slimy, greenish-grey rat tails.

"Gillyweed!"

Perhaps he could go and get the rest of his project group to show them this, as some sort of distraction.

**H.R.**

Gryffindor – and thus Bobbie – had a Quidditch practice, but he easily managed to convince Albus and Cathy to come down to the lake one rare sunny afternoon. As he predicted, Cathy took up her sketchbook eagerly, and Harvey could already see the glorious page of their project that was dedicated to "Gillyweed". He thanked her.

"Listen," he said to Albus, when one surfaced and began the ritual of pointing and babbling again. "They can talk!"

"I wonder what they sound like underwater," Albus was intrigued.

"Why don't you find out for yourself, Al?" asked Harvey. "You could cast a bubble-head charm."

Albus shook his head. "You can if you want to." He didn't like water. Cathy, like all "Cats", didn't like it either. So Harvey ducked his head in.

"What did you hear?" Albus asked Harvey as he resurfaced.

"They can sing, too," Harvey said, in awe. "Really, Al…you must…"

**H.R.**

The selkies liked Harvey's honesty and humility, and were willing to open up to him. Meanwhile, Albus's excellent memory allowed them to unravel the syntax of their language, and Cathy's ears could pick up the smallest subtleties in pitch, tone or emphasis.

Over the next few weeks, they managed to uncover much about the culture of the merpeople. They lived in highly organised communities, with elaborate underwater castles that made Harvey conjure up images of goldfish bowl ornaments in his head.

Spring was in the air – the sun was beginning to come out, group projects were wrapping up and Easter was heading their way. Artemis went home for the break, but Harvey felt like staying at Hogwarts, and polishing his Mermish. On one of their forays into Hogsmeade he had acquired a copy of _Dreadful Denizens of the Deep_, and it was a truly fascinating complement.

Out of the blue one morning, when Cathy and Albus were off doing something else, possibly sleeping, he was wandering around the grounds when he bumped into Hesper Starky.

"I heard about Art," said the pretty girl. "We're going to miss him dreadfully in Divination. And I thought…my Kneazle cross just had seven kittens, and I can't keep them all…and I couldn't possibly sell them to the Magical Menagerie…Cathy didn't want one, she already has a horse, two dogs and an owl, so I had a spare…and Art always said that you liked animals…I thought you might like one for company…perhaps to keep you company next year…"

She poured a thick, fluffy bundle of black fur into Harvey's lap. The only ways in which it differed from a regular cat, he noticed, were its oversized ears, its lion-like tail, the slightly shorter legs, and the very, very vaguely flattened face.

"Just don't tell Phineas; he has a bit of a possessive side which he gets from his parents, as I'm sure you've noticed, and…I hate to stir up trouble. I'm sure you've noticed what we Ravenclaws are like – try to sit on the fence, out of harm's way."

"Why thank you – it's a beautiful creature." Harvey looked over his new pet. Who said that black cats were unlucky? To top it all off, it had the most stunning amber eyes, much like…

"It looks like you," he said, without thinking.

"You flatter me, Harvey Ridgebit" said Hesper, in very different tone of voice. Then she laughed a bell-like peal that made it clear she was used to flattery. "Good day to you," she said, smiling and giving him just a glimpse of her perfectly straight teeth as her amber eyes narrowed.

**H.R.**

"Another year over," said McValley in his most musical voice. "You have done an excellent job, my wonderful new prefects, coping with so much apart from your duties – and I am not only referring to your OWLs."

Harvey heard the most curious noise in his ear. His Kneazle-Cat cross, now named Alex – for Alex the Great of course – Delta had insisted he bring the pet to the meeting so she could play with him – and had started hissing.

"What's wrong, Alex?" he asked, lifting the little kitten off his shoulder and putting it on the table in front of him. Now that there was no possibility of it falling from a great height, Alex scampered down the table towards McValley, knocking over something framed on his way.

"What's…his name?" asked McValley as Harvey set the frame upright – it was something in a foreign language.

"Alex," replied Harvey, looking back up. "That is his name."

Alex crouched in front of and, Harvey could have sworn, glared at McValley.

And he pounced.

McValley let out a cry of surprise – or was it pain – or both?

"_Tyger, Tyger, burning bright_," said Albus.

"_In the forests of the night_," finished McValley, prying Alex's claws off him, his thin slits of eyes narrowing. "I must admit, in all my life, there has only been one kitten that I have cared about. Perhaps yours can smell it?"

**H.R.**

"Have you heard of William Blake, Alex?" he asked his pet, now safely back on his shoulder. The cat purred, as Harvey recited the end of the poem "My Spectre" to him.

"_Let us agree to give up Love  
__And root up the infernal grove:__  
Then shall we return and see  
The worlds of happy Eternity_

_And throughout all Eternity  
I forgive you, you forgive me,  
As our dear Redeemer said:  
This the wine and this the Bread."_

"Looks like you and I are going to get along swimmingly these holidays," said Harvey to Alex. "We have the same tastes and opinions!"

They were boarding the Hogwarts Express to go home when Harvey dragged his trunk into the Prefects' carriage, caught sight of Hesper and plucked up the courage to ask her, "Fancy finding a compartment?"

"Oh I'm terribly sorry, Harvey, I would love to chat – find out how that Kneazle of yours is going – but – oh hello Emeric!"

The Ravenclaw boy came up beside Hesper and put his arm around her waist.

Some things about the wizarding world – like their absurd liberality – he would simply never get used to.

"I see," said Harvey. He wasn't sure if he liked her that much after all. "Well, have a good summer."

"Harvey! Over here!"

He backed away into the carriage compartment behind him, where he found Albus and Delta. Albus immediately made a space for Harvey next to him, but the Hufflepuff boy plonked himself beside Delta instead.

"Bobbie, I do think we ought to meet up during the holidays – Britain's hosting the Quidditch World Cup this year, and I'm going to see if I can scrabble up some tickets!" he pinched himself for the awful 'scrabbling' that had escaped from him.

But Delta didn't mind. On the contrary, she leapt up and said, "Merlin's Beard, if you get tickets so I can see Luxembourg versus Poland in August, I'll most definitely forgive you for forgetting my birthday in March, and I might marry you."

On second thoughts, some things about the wizarding world were more than _not bad_ – _they were brilliant_, Harvey thought, as he pulled out his quill and started to write a poem of his own. _Wind Song. For Artemis._

* * *

_**A/N:**__** Vanessa Carlton – A Thousand Miles To Review  
**_**_And I need you, and I miss you, and now I wonder…  
If I could write…a decent fic,  
Do you think you  
Would ignore me like this?  
Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles  
If you could just…review me…tonight…_**

_Did you get the difference between Harvey and Elphias? Harvey is not gay. (Or dating Delta, for that matter - they're just ridiculously good friends who are unconventional and enjoy a bit of banter). **Thank you to Anomalous Anonymous, eumuroo, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, deeps85, Stef and sunny88 who have been so diligently following!** The fact that you guys are enjoying this novel keeps it alive in my heart.  
_

_The poem "Wind Song" (which will be uploaded in the next chapter) was written by yours truly, when in tenth grade my good friend lost her dog and we were all going through some troubled times. I was nearly sixteen – how old Harvey was. I didn't include it in the original NaNo though – Harvey's chapters didn't take me very long – I think three days was enough to get 10K words out. I hope the reflections haven't detracted from what I hope was a pretty fast pace. Also, you may have noticed that Delta's and Harvey's chapters seem to "go together". You'll find that Hesper's and Gellert's go together, as do Elphie's, Albus' and Cathy's. And I'm sorry I had to butcher McValley's character so quickly…he will get a bit of redemption in Hesper's bit, mainly because Hesper is a rather nasty piece of work._


	14. Chapter 13: Harvey's Poem

**Wind Song. Poem by Harvey.**

**H.R.**

It stings your face so tears course your cheeks, and soak the path beyond.  
It flitters by your eyes with glee, brandishing mockingly its wand.

It burns your hands and chaps your lips; it wears you down inside.  
And by the end all will be broken, from your spirit to your pride.

Every being must bow to it; every petal, stem or leaf  
Could effortlessly be tossed away, despite disbelief,

All animals become the same, insignificant insects,  
Impotent towards their fate, merely feeble pests.

It seems odd that such a thing, mundane and commonplace,  
That happens each and every day, seldom leaving any trace,

And those closest to the tragedy, who understand its consequence,  
Too often are themselves split off by self-preservation and defence

It is a fundamental part of life, which you cannot ignore  
In the repetitive, cyclic game you play, without any real score.

It may chill your soul, or char you till you're horribly over-warmed,  
But energy is neither created nor destroyed; only just transformed.

A force that shall never perish, though eternity lives on,  
It shall puff its extinguishing breaths long after we are gone.

As Shakespeare said immortally, escape cannot be bought,  
"As flies to wanton boys, are we to th'gods; they kill us for their sport."

What you do not seem to know is that there is a road ahead,  
There is a course which you can run, a less weathered one instead.

There is a force greater than magic, gifted from up above,  
You may know it as friendship, you may know it as love.

I promise I will not let you fall, for too much is at stake,  
I shall part the melancholy waters, and build a strong windbreak

Against the disturbance of the peace, that which it is creating,  
Take my hand, my dearest friend – I will hold your heart when breaking.

**H.R.**

* * *

_**A/N: Lame and soppy. I'm really sorry - so to make up you won't get a silly poem from me begging for reviews this time. Thankyou to deeps85 and Anomalous Anonymous who reviewed last time!  
**_

_**In May, you'll get to meet Hesper Starky (who mysteriously popped up in my Easter one-shot, "Another One Through and Through") - in the meantime, please do check out a couple of my other babies, like "Danse Macabre" perhaps?  
**_


	15. Chapter 14: A Girl Named Beauty

Chapter 14: A Girl Named Beauty, by Hesper Venus

"_First years, First years this way!" a voice rings through the valley. You clutch your pretty, warm and furry scarf around your neck – it's not regulation, but you're only a first year – as if they will tell you off for it. You step carefully down a steep and narrow path, and at the end, the voice – belonging to a stocky man with a wide, open smile – tells you that you are nearly close enough to get your first view of Hogwarts._

_Hogwarts – the place of your ancestors – it is said that you can trace your bloodline back down to Rowena Ravenclaw herself. Certainly you have her raven hair, and just like her, everyone agrees that, even aged eleven, you are growing up into a beauty. The precarious path fans out onto the banks of a great black lake, beyond which is a mountain with a grand castle. There is a loud gasp beside you._

_You hardly noticed her before; this shadow of a girl, her hair as long and black as yours, though much straighter. Even in the dim moonlight you can see unsightly marks on her face. _

_But you don't mind her wide blue eyes, which seem rather entranced by the sight of your amber, foxlike ones, so you settle with her into one of the little boats at the water's edge._

"_No more than four to a boat!" calls the man again. _

"_I'm Hesper Starky," you shake hands with the girl._

"_I'm Cathy Carlton," the girl replies. _

"_Everyone have a boat? Everyone in?" two more people scramble into the boat – two boys you have seen before on the school train. One has long, auburn hair. The other has short, curly brown hair, a ludicrous number of freckles, and on closer inspection turns out to be a girl. _

_They smile nervously at you, completely ignoring Cathy, who doesn't seem to notice anything anyway, staring straight up at the castle and its many turrets and towers. You smile back at them, showing a few of your pearly white teeth, which are now lovely and straight thanks to an enchanted mirror which your mother just used on you. Even though your mother says, "no beaux until you are fourteen". As you hear a shout of, "FORWARD!" you think, "I could get used to this…"_

_You aren't named after the goddess of love and beauty for nothing!_

**H.V.D.S.**

Hesper was used to being admired – which was really the only reason she enjoyed Emeric Switch's company in the first place. He wasn't as handsome as Lawrence or as interested in public displays as affection as Phineas, but he certainly wasn't stingy with his words. There wasn't anyone better than him at Transfiguration. And what was more important, he practically worshipped the ground she walked on. "You're going to be Head Girl next year," he said, "There's no one else whom they could possibly choose."

The two of them were sharing a horseless carriage on the way up to the Hogwarts castle – Cathy hadn't liked Emeric from the start, and was happier huddling with _personae non gratae_ such as Delta Hitchens.

It was mutual. Cathy had claimed that Emeric was – _what were here exact words? A queer, underhanded little boy with an obsession? Speak for yourself, Cathy, you queer, underhanded little girl whose motives are impossible to know…_

The carriage passed a pair of wrought iron gates, flanked by stone columns and topped with winged boars. The autumn rain tumbled down gently upon them as Hesper nestled quietly against him, leaning her head close to Emeric's so that her silky black curls brushed his cheek. In some ways, it was a pity Emeric wasn't a prefect, Hesper had thought, while listening to the de-briefing by this year's Head Boy and Girl, Caspian Radcliffe and Stella Moon. It would have been so neat and tidy if like Stella and Caspian, who had been a couple for years, she and Emeric could be Head Girl and Boy. But now, when she thought again, it did not matter.

Hesper had been born on the deathday of Artemisia Lufkin, the first woman to officially hold the position of "Minister for Magic", and so for some time, Hesper had idolised her as a witch who held power over wizards. In later years she had grown to admire Laverne de Montmercy, a pioneer of Love Potions and the inventor of _Amortentia_. This, she felt, set her apart from despicable girls like Delta, who used the fashionable muggle word "feminist" to describe themselves and aimed to act like boys. Hesper didn't believe in being a wizard's equal, she wanted to be a _witch_.

After the Sorting Ceremony and the Start-of-Term feast, the two of them climbed the dizzying spiral staircase to the Ravenclaw Common room holding hands. Hesper reached out and knocked the bronze eagle.

"Is it better to walk, or to run in the rain?" asked the familiar musical voice.

They looked at each other and laughed; it was a much easier question than usual, probably to ease the new first-years into the riddling system. "Even if you encounter raindrops you would not have met by walking, running will see you sooner to a warm fire and dry clothes."

"Agreed." The door swung open, and they stepped inside the wide, circular Common Room. The walls were hung with shining blue and bronze silk, while the ceiling was domed and dotted with stars, much like the Great Hall, but independent of any inclement weather, and the ankle-deep carpet was midnight blue. Rowena Ravenclaw had certainly had an aesthetically trained eye.

"Hesper!" cried Cathy Carlton, who had been sitting by the fireplace, copying the tall, white marble statue of the Rowena Ravenclaw into her sketchbook. Cathy ran over to Hesper and kissed her on the cheeks. And Helen, Hesper's pet, half Kneazle, half cat, who had so far remained sulking in the silence, leapt up into Cathy's outstretched arms.

"How were your holidays, Cathy?"

"My parents took me to Paris again for a month – and Charlie came too, of course – and it was brilliant – you should've seen how kind the weather was to us. We were all burnt as brown as monkeys. And I think I even put on a few pounds, the food was so nice! Have you been to France, Hesper? What did you do?" Cathy rambled, in an abnormally excitable voice. Hesper looked her up and down; Cathy's skin was finally clear and nearly radiant, after several rounds of Tugwood's Bubotuber Pus potions.

"_Better off a guinea pig than an ugly duckling,"_ Hesper had told her, when Tugwood had been looking for volunteers to visit her for her nightly experiments.



Cathy had also begun to fill out her figure, even if she was still too thin to be considered beautiful. Hesper kissed her on the cheeks in return and replied, "Oh, nothing much, just spent some time at Emeric's house, which will be much easier once we can Apparate after this year."

"How did you go in the OWLs?" asked Cathy.

"Good! I was happy – nine OWLs, six O's, and three E's. What about you?"

"I was happy too," said Cathy, almost smugly. "Nine O's and one E!"

"Oh, Cathy, that's wonderful!" said Hesper.

"I heard," she dropped her still-joyful voice to a whisper, "that someone scored ten O's!"

"Who?" asked Hesper, even though she knew the answer.

"Albus, of course," Cathy shrugged, trying to appear casual, though Hesper knew better.

"Congratulations," said Emeric in his monotonous voice, taking Hesper's hand in his again. "Congratulations, Cathy! I suppose I'll be seeing you in Potions tomorrow morning then!" he began to lead her out the door of the Common Room again, hoping to make the most of their newly extended curfews. Eleven-thirty pm for sixth years! It was going to be splen-di-ferous fun.

"We can play with the giant Chess set, Hesper! They've set a few up in the dungeons. Wizard Chess is one of McValley's favourite games; he likes it more than Quidditch, and much more than Gobstones! Imagine, Hesper! It's like sending your very own army out to war!"

"War, war, war," said Hesper, bouncing her head playfully from side to side. "Don't you boys talk about anything else? If I hear one more thing about…"

"Awww, Hesper, come on, it's just a game, one game?"

The _awwww_ had mollified her. "All right," she said. "I'll play you."

**H.V.D.S.**

Professor Llewellyn marked the roll for the Discussion and Reflection group for Ravenclaw sixth-years on the third night back.

"Athena Atwood-Plath? Libatius Borage? Catherine Carlton? Georgietta Goodsell? Laurence Kingsolver? Tennyson Norton? Derrick Rutherford? Hesper Starky? Emeric Switch? Zelda Thompson?" They were all present.

"I'm not going to ask you how you all feel, because that will make you cringe," said Professor Llewellyn. "But I'm going to congratulate you all on your wonderful OWLs – which you all achieved nine or more of! And one of you had a nearly perfect score – nine O's and one E!"

"Where is she – Cathy?" said a silky male voice from the direction of the eagle banner. Hesper saw Cathy look up sharply, saw her eyes widen, saw her press her nearly colourless lips together to make them redder. Hesper rolled her eyes behind McValley's back.

"Headmaster!" exclaimed Professor Llewellyn. "My, this is a surprise. To what do we owe this visit?"

"Oh, nothing," said Professor McValley, running a hand casually through his short grey hair, and smiling so that his eyes crinkled into slits. "I just thought I'd drop in to have a look at things, being _spontaneous_, you know? Actually it would be good if I could have a word with you. Ignore us, sixth-years, keep reflecting! How do you all feel?"

Hesper tried to catch one of McValley's eyes, but he wouldn't look at her. Never mind, he had a reputation for not being able to do that. "He must have been a Ravenclaw himself," she said to Cathy, sitting on her left, who didn't answer. "Cathy? Cathy? Hello, Cathy? Catherine?"

Hesper sighed. Hadn't it been more than two years?

**H.V.D.S.**

"I get the feeling he's following me," said Cathy, lying on her four-poster bed, the navy curtains wide open.

"Catherine, life isn't a romantic novel," Hesper told her sharply, as they lay in bed after Lights Out. "You need to find somebody your own age. It'll eat you up, if you keep pining from the distance like that. It was endearing when you were a little girl with her idol, but now you are sixteen and it is rather wrong."

"How do you know?"

Hesper thought quickly. "Because, I – er – used to feel that way about someone else. Tugwood. For a few months in about fifth year. It eats you up, it does, and then you waste ages pining away, just staring at them, never looking at anyone else."

"No," said Cathy, her mind clearly on other things, "How did you know…even about McValley? Was I that obvious? Oh, does he know? Is that why he won't look at me properly, even with Tugwood's…"

"Cathy! He doesn't look _properly_ at _anyone_!" exclaimed Hesper. "And if you want to know how I know, half your notebook is dedicated to him. And since third year, you haven't only drawn him as you see him, which is what you do for most people you don't know that well, you see them in a pretty pose, and you preserve the memory of it, but you actually _imagine_ things…"

"When did you go through my book?" Cathy gasped, alarmed. "You – you didn't…read…?" she stammered.

"Cathy, I would _never _go through your book! I just happen to _notice_ things whenever you take it out. You carry it everywhere with you; you can't expect me not to notice. And, whenever I sit next to you, you draw eyes over and over your class notes with that preposterous pencil of yours. Also, you're sleeping with the book beneath your pillow. You never used to do that before third year when you met _him_."

Cathy went a whiter shade of pale. "Who else knows apart from you?"

"Not a soul," said Hesper, clasping the elfin girl to her. "Friends never tell. You won't tell about Tugwood and I won't tell about McValley. Just promise me – you'll pick on someone your own size from now on, won't you?"

_Oh god, I hope she does soon, why does she hang around me like a bad smell still when everyone else is pairing off? Surely we're old enough now…_

"That's hard," said Cathy. "I don't think there's a single boy in Hogwarts above first year who's my height or shorter than me."

Hesper burst out laughing.

_Poor child. Needs to take everything literally._

"Besides, you're taller than Emeric, aren't you?"

"Um," she chewed the inside of her cheek, "I don't think we're exactly a well-matched pair. He's been…er, I daresay, _fun_, to be around, but the worshipping is getting a bit worrisome."

"Like Pygmalion and Galatea?"

"Er, who?"

"Pygmalion built a statue and fell in love with it."

"Oh. I suppose it is like that. I was referring more to your McValley fixation. How about I set an example for you?" said Hesper, once again turning the conversation beautifully around to suit her.

* * *

_**A/N: Let Me Entertain You, Please Review – Robbie Williams**_

_Heaven's gone and hell is here__  
I have no reviews, I fear  
__Scroll your mouse, come over here__  
Please read?__  
I'm tempted to throw away  
__Everything I wrote yesterday__  
You're my rocks of empathy, my dears._

_So come on,__Let me entertain you.  
Won't you…leave a review?_

_Thank you everyone for your patience while I went through exam hell. Especially Bad Mum, Anomalous Anonymous, deeps85 and WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot who reviewed the last chapter!  
_  
_**I'm back! Well, kind of. UNSW's Med Revue is running from May 13th to 16th (if you're in Sydney, do come and watch!), and I'm heavily involved (out of exam room and onto the stage and back again – that's my life). Hope you enjoyed this chapter – yes, Hesper is a nasty piece of work. Comes straight from JKR's Famous Wizard Cards!**_

_Now…Before you scream, "MARY SUES!" please remember that Hermione got TEN O'S and more. Other kids must have done it in the past, and besides, they're Ravenclaws. I owe it to them to do well. Anyway, what do you guys think of Hesper The Bitch And Liar?_


	16. Chapter 15: A Girl Sweet Seventeen

Chapter 15: A Girl Sweet Seventeen, by Hesper Dulcinea

_You usually don't walk down that particular corridor, but you hear the most enchanting violin music emanating from it, and can't resist finding the violinist responsible._

_You locate the source; the door is just ajar, and through the crack you can see an office decked out in rich colours. Scarlet carpet. Yellow wallpaper. Chairs of dark rosewood. Oil paintings on the walls._

_And standing, with her back to you, is the magical violinist. Liquid gold curls fall to the base of her neck, where the navy-blue of her cloak takes over and sinks to the floor, obscuring her legs – which you know are lithe, and her feet – which you know must be dainty little affairs. _

_Her energetic bowing movements hypnotize you, engraving the electrifying notes in your memory. How anyone's arm could move that quickly is beyond you. You wish you could creep in, to see how nimbly her fingers must be flying across the fingerboard of her instrument, but you don't dare. Besides, you wouldn't want to interrupt the mellifluous melody for anything._

_That night, in the common room, you hum it to little Cathy, who delights in being a musical smart aleck (it helps her compensate for her deficiencies in other things) and she tells you what it's called. She says, "It's by Tchaikovsky – it's the solo violin part of the Finale, Allegro Vivacissimo, from his violin concerto in D Major, Opus 35. It's fiendishly hard."_

"_Thank you Cathy. Of course, all I really wanted to know was summed up in your first three and last three words, but as usual…"_

_The next time you watch the blonde virtuoso, you recognise what she's playing – it's the famous Summer, from Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons'. The sound stays smooth even during the more frantic bars, there is just the right amount of vibrato, and the way the dynamics slide between very soft and very loud keeps you on the edge of your toes._

_Sometime after that, you discover her name. _

_It's as mellifluous as her violin playing, and it's just like your middle name – Dulcinea, meaning "sweet"._

_Sa-cha-ris-sa Tug-wood._

**H.V.D.S.**

Hesper was the first out of the sixth-years to Come of Age, and since her birthday coincided with the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year, she gathered her friends for a visit to the Three Broomsticks.

That Saturday met them slowly. Friday afternoon had crawled along "rudely ignorant of the drumming of fingertips on desks, or the tapping of quills on textbooks", as Cathy phrased it. The two of them now crunched through the freshly fallen carpet of red and gold, which came up to their ankles, exploring the road not yet taken. They watched as a couple of winged horses caterwauled about among the leaves.

"I still can't believe they let us come in here," Cathy mused, dreamy as ever. "My mother would have a stroke if she knew I was walking into an inn."

"You mean you haven't taken her to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Well, she accepts that as a thoroughfare…we never stay for long anyway, she doesn't even know the barman's name is 'Tom'. Why 'Tom?" Has it always been someone called 'Tom'? It's a different Tom to the one I saw six years ago…that, and I've left her under the impression that we're all chaperoned when we go to Hogsmeade…"

"Phineas!" Hesper saw the untidy-haired boy with the dark, narrow eyes approach her, and she gave him a very quick handshake. They had broken their connection as amicably as possible last year. Phineas' mother had gotten wind of Hesper through his first-year, tattletale brother Arcturus, and had sent Hesper a nasty owl telling her that even though he was not yet of age, Phineas had been engaged to his cousin Irma de Bourgh since birth, and would she kindly back off. Phineas had been deeply apologetic to Hesper when he said he had to end things between them, and so she had had to allow him to become a pleasant memory of her childhood. She had been proud of how quickly she had been able to move on.

"Where's Emeric?" asked Phineas, pushing open the door of the Three Broomsticks.

"Oh, I think he's off at Scrivenshaft's Stationer looking for a new quill," replied Hesper lightly.

Inside the inn was a large sweating, steaming swarm of people; clearly all of the Hogwarts students in third year and above had headed here. Cathy took one glance and bolted.

"Oh come on, Cathy, it's a good day in there today!" said Delta, who had caught up with them. "There aren't any hags, trolls or leprechauns in there today, so it looks quite safe."

"I think Emeric's off at Zonko's buying _explosives_," said Cathy spitefully. "_I_ need to go to Scrivenshaft's though, I could do with a new colour-change pencil." She showed Hesper the pretty little piece of stationery that had first upstaged her Derwents in third year. Instead of an eraser on one end, it had a miniscule knob, which, when you twisted it, made the lead in the pencil change through the colours of the rainbow. But it had been reduced to half its original size.

"Happy Birthday, Hesper!" said Delta, putting a star chart into her hands. "Ah, speak of the devil, here he comes!"

Emeric came running up. "Happy Birthday, lovely Hesper! Sorry I'm late – I was just getting you _these_…"

And he put a bouquet of flowers into her hands.

**H.V.D.S.**

On October the thirty-first, The Great Hall was decked out in celebration of the wizarding holiday, Halloween. Even Hesper had to marvel at McValley's skill; a hundred live bats fluttered about the ceiling, pumpkins hovered over the House tables, extra ghosts had been invited to partake in the feast and eerie music abounded. "Danse Macabre," said Cathy. "Camille Saint-Saens."

They sat down next to the ghost of a young girl, somewhat shorter than the Grey Lady, the Ghost of Ravenclaw Tower. "Good girl," said the ghost to Cathy, who had sat as far away from Emeric as she could manage while still being polite. "Keep away from the boys. You can't trust them. Trust me, I know, I had three brothers. And they were always running off, on their grand adventures, caring more about their strange experiments than me, always leaving me behind, going places where I could not follow…and when I did help them, which was more often than not, since every brother needs a sister to pull him out of scrapes with mother, I got no thanks, no remembrance."

"Don't mind Lavinia," said Helena Ravenclaw, otherwise known as the Grey Lady. "She's a very sweet girl, she just gets a bit emotional on Halloween. By the time the clock had struck midnight one Halloween long ago, two of her brothers were dead."

The candles flickered as she said this, and there was a false thunderclap, which triggered a muddle of sounds – screams, oohs and aahs, and shouts of "Happy Halloween!" And thus the feast began.

"Mademoiselle Peverell!" Hesper jumped, as McValley had turned up without warning again, and bowed low to the visiting ghost. "Is everything all right?"

The ghost of Lavinia Peverell nodded sadly, but allowed herself to drift off with McValley as he walked over to greet the Gryffindor table. Cathy got up from her seat and followed him and his billowing, handsomely cut black and silver robes. She would never learn, would she, thought Hesper. Poor child.

"Happy Halloween, Hesper," said Emeric, for the fifth time that night. "I know it's tradition for the prefects to open the dance together…but I hope you'll save at least one dance for me…I'll be right here waiting all night."

"Oh really? That's so…_nice_!" said Hesper. "But do you know what would be _even nicer_?" She pulled him roughly aside. "We need to talk."

**H.V.D.S.**

At least now she was free of Emeric, she was free to pursue her goal of Head Girl, she thought brightly, as she put yet another young wizard behind her.

In the Potions class the day after their most recent Prefects' Meeting, she had been assigned to work with Libatius Borage in creating the Draught of Living Death.

"So now that the fifth year prefects are all settled in, what do you think of them?" asked Libatius, chopping up Valerian roots.

"They're delightful – they're so dedicated to their cause," replied Hesper, crushing a sopophorous bean with her own knife. The rich purple juice spurted out everywhere, and Libatius had to stop to help her mop it off the floor.

"Maybe you should just _cut_ it next time."

They took turns stirring the potion.

"We have to cover _every_ NEWT subject we're doing with a group project, either this year or next year," Libatius sighed. "Thank god I only have eight. I heard we can double-up some things too, that might make it easier. Do you have any ideas? And do you know anyone who would like to work on a Potions one this year? I definitely want to get it out of the way first – it's probably my strongest subject. Not that I'm trying to brag or anything," he assured, seeing the look on Hesper's face.

Later that lesson, Hesper discovered that Delta Hitchens was truly the most brazen girl she had ever encountered. After Libatius mentioned to her that they were talking about doing a Potions group project, and that Hesper had a vague idea of what she was interested in, she stood on her chair and announced,

"DOES ANYONE WANT TO DO A COMBINED POTIONS AND ASTRONOMY GROUP PROJECT ON CYCLES OF THE MOON AND ITS EFFECT ON POTION BREWING?"

Thank heavens Tugwood had a truly marvellous sense of humour to go with her looks. Hesper smirked; McValley might be twice as impulsive as Delta, but he surely wouldn't want _her_ to be Head Girl! _No – opposites attract, like repel! Those two would clash like purple and green!_

**H.V.D.S.**

Thanks to Hesper and Libatius' good terms with McValley, they managed to procure permission for the other sixth-years in their group – Cathy, Delta, Albus and Harvey – to evade Lights Out until midnight, like seventh-years, in order that they might complete their astronomy project.

"It's because you all are prefects except me," said Cathy, happily. On this particular occasion they were sitting in the Tower by their telescopes, waiting for a particularly stubborn and irritating cloud to move out of the way of the moon.

"We should at least do something constructive," said Libatius impatiently.

"Oh look at those three bright stars up there lined in a lovely straight little row! I wish we could learn how to control the weather."

"Cathy, can you please concentrate and stop dreaming? Just a little?"

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on; and our little life is rounded with a sleep," said Albus' voice from above. But it hadn't come from Albus, it came out of the beak of a rather large, silvery-white bird that was floating about the room.

"The Tempest," said Cathy.

But no one could hear her, because at the same time, Delta hollered, "OH MY GOD, ALBUS FELL OUT OF THE TOWER, HIT THE GROUND, DIED AND CAME BACK AS A GHOST!"

"Delta! There's no need to raise your voice!" said Hesper, annoyedly.

"Delta! I'm here!" Albus pointed the wand away from his own throat, stepping out of the shadows, and the phoenix was silent again. "I got an idea from Harvey last year that we could use Patronuses to communicate. Faster than owls. Look, let me teach you."

It reminded Hesper of children's games like Chinese Whispers, as they spent the rest of the night sending Patronuses to each other, forgetting the moon charts they were meant to be completing.

Harvey and Delta were testing each other's knowledge of Quidditch jargon with a tiger cub and a seal.

"That Starfish and Stick was fun to watch, wasn't it?"

"Did you see that awesome Double Eight Loop he did though?"

"Or the Reverse Passes that Luxemborg kept using?"

_What an oddly matched pair_, thought Hesper, as her fox flirted with Libatius' lynx. Albus and Cathy were standing together by the windowsill, as their extra large Patronuses – the Phoenix and the Pegasus – enjoyed the unlimited space outside the tower, having a sing-off or something. Well, they were allowed to, Christmas was only a month away now.

"_Adeste fideles, laeti triumphantes…"_

"Can't you sing in English for once, show offs?" asked Delta. The two at the window laughed, and launched into the strains of "O Come All Ye Faithful" in four-part harmony. Those two were truly incorrigible, and practically defined the term "they deserve each other".

**H.V.D.S.**

McValley was present at Hesper's "careers discussion" with her Head of House.

"I have it planned out," she announced proudly. "I have already submitted my application to the Urian-Niels School of Apothecary, I'm just waiting to see if I've been granted an interview."

"Very good, so do you have other options apart from UNSA?" asked Llewellyn.

"I still want to go into Potions research…overseas somewhere."

"Keep your options open – that's important. And remember, if one door closes, another always opens." Llewellyn turned to McValley, who was leaning his elbow on her desk, pressing his thumb against his lower lip and his two fingers against his forehead. It was a typical pose to show that he was thinking deeply.

"You're always so calm, Hesper, do you ever have days when you just feel the urge to throw something?"

She looked at him serenely. "No."

"You didn't perchance think of going into Healing, did you?"

"No," she said. "It looks like an arduous path to follow."

"Oh, the E's," he said, leaning back and stroking his hair. "Come on, Miss Starky, you and I know that you're well and truly capable of achieving the marks. It's a question of what is going to make you happy." McValley shut his eyes. "But then…I should've known it wasn't the path for you. You wouldn't be content with being respected for your skill, you would want to be admired for the elegance in your technique, the artistry with which you wield a cauldron…"

That sounded distinctly like another, particular Ravenclaw. _Are you sure you haven't mixed me up with…_

"…but _not_ quite like Miss Carlton," he said, reading her thoughts. "For one thing, you're not as thin and dark as the shadow she is. Moreover, she idolises people, like her brother, who happens to be a doctor, and where they will go, she will follow – entirely out of choice, mind you, she's a quaint little thing – and then she'll add her own funny flavour. That one likes to build on other's ideas. But you, you are excited by being in unchartered territory…first to turn seventeen, I see…and you thrive in the spotlight…and you would appreciate more material rewards…am I right in that Apothecary would also give you a fair amount of free time, to pursue other pursuits?"

_How does he know…? NO__, don't let it show.__ He's trying to throw you off. Stay calm. You can do better than Delta._

"It would indeed," said Hesper.

* * *

**_A/N: Stop! And Review! – The Spice Girls_**

_Stop right now,  
Thankyou very much!  
I need somebody with a reviewer's touch  
Hey you, reader on the run,  
Could you slow it down, baby  
And please give me one?_

_Hesper is still a snob – a ruthless social climber (ironic, her comments about Delta, hey?). I know her flitting around from wizard-to-wizard is a bit exaggerated, but I find it highly amusing (because I know someone in real life who does just that).  
_

_Sorry, but we've had so many likeable characters so far it was time for someone we hate. McValley-hating was just a prelude. I may as well dispel the rumour though, that McValley/Cathy is NOT ON, so don't get any ideas. It's not what you think it is!!_

_Thanks and praises and plugs be to **Stef, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, deeps85 and Anomalous Anonymous** who reviewed chapter fourteen!_


	17. Chapter 16: A Girl Who Knows Everything

Chapter 16: A girl who knows everything, Hesper Starky

_The conversations taking place within the fifth-year Ravenclaw dormitory after lights-out are testimony to the relaxed attitude your world has to the relationships of wizards and wizards. To put it plainly – you are far from the only girl afflicted by Tugwood's attractiveness. There is a round of gasps when you relate the story of the violinist to Athena, Georgietta and Zelda (Cathy is safely asleep in the arms of her imaginary friend) one night. _

"_I wish I could play Tchaikovsky," says Athena enviously._

_And on a similar note, related to Tugwood, guess what you nearly trip over one day, when you decide to show up early for Potions?_

_Two lanky boys – all right, to be fair, only one of them is __really__ lanky, the other is just tall – are sitting next to each other on the stairs to the dungeon entrance. The red-haired boy leans closer than he needs to in order to whisper in the brown-haired boy's ear, and his pale, long fingers linger on the tanned neck next to him. _

_You blink twice, and keep going on your own pretty way. _

_It's probably just a phase. It looks rather one-sided too, if you dare say so. You are quite sure Harvey Ridgebit is otherwise inclined. And when Albus Dumbledore is inevitably jilted, he will be looking for some metaphorical Spellotape to patch up his broken heart. _

"_My Heart is like a singing bird, whose nest is in a watered shoot…"_

_Like Tugwood, Albus is also rather fond of music. And who was the girl who gave you the names of Tugwood's pieces in the first place?_

"_**My Heart is like an apple-tree, whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit…"**_

_That girl's love life has been unfruitful so far, in spite of these verses adorning her diaries._

"_**My Heart is like a rainbow shell that paddles in a halcyon sea…"**_

_The two of them – Albus and Cathy – are rather flamboyant when it comes to colouring. _

"_**My Heart is gladder than all these, because my love is come to me…"**_

_And with that, you have a new project! Because, you know best. You know almost all._

**H.V.D.S.**

Hesper needed to find something for Libatius' birthday. She wished she had broken things off with Emeric earlier – that way she might have had a bit more time to knit a scarf for him or something. For once, she wished she could trade off her high and shapely nose for Cathy's artistic ability to conjure up whimsical sketches out of nowhere that could not fail to bring joy to their recipients.

"Hello Hesper!" said Cathy, appearing out of nowhere, as she often did. "Write a poem," said Cathy."Anything can sound like poetry if it rhymes. There's a very good rhyming dictionary in the library."

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Cathy," she said as gently as possible."Libatius isn't one of those boys…who are very interested in poetry…" she remembered the fiasco which Emeric had been. "He's more into…the sciences…"

"Christina Rossetti wrote an extremely appropriate poem about a birthday," said Cathy, ignoring her, and began to recite:

"_My heart is like a rainbow shell__  
That paddles in a halcyon sea;  
__My heart is gladder than all these  
Because my love is come to me."_

"I remember that," said Hesper. "It was written on the cover of your diary last year." McValley's voice rang in her head, as she wondered if things had changed. "Who's your love, Cathy, and has he come to you?"

A dreamy kind of tight-lipped smile gave her the answer she was looking for. She smiled smugly.

_I knew it would happen, sooner or later._

"Just be mature about it, won't you?" she begged Cathy.

_That might be wishful thinking though…_

**H.S.V.S**

Hesper decided to interfere when, since Elphias Doge had decided not to continue the Study of Ancient Runes at NEWT-level, Albus and Cathy were sitting next to each other in Cato's class, the unthinkable happened.

Hesper noticed Cathy watching Albus intently. Albus was a favourite of Cato's because of his preciseness in syntax and astounding memory for vocabulary, and he began to translate, "His chin was seized by a thought…"

"I think you mean, 'his mind was seized by a thought,' Mr Dumbledore…"

The spell was broken; when Cathy grabbed Albus by the hand and whispered, "Misconstruned again?" Albus turned bright red, redder than his hair.

Runes was the last class for the day, and once Cato had finished giving the class ten lines of translation, two feet of comment and five grammar and vocabulary exercises, Hesper chased Cathy down.

"Will you walk with me?"

Cathy was taken aback. "But what about Libatius?"

"He's not like Emeric," she answered honestly. "I have something called personal space, and we set boundaries and we respect them." That part was a lie. Libatius was actually too bookish for girls.

Cathy shot a completely random question at Hesper. "Do you believe in soulmates?"

"_What_?"

"You know, like, your soulmate or something. The person who knows you better than you know yourself. Plato had a very interesting Twin Flame theory – that floating around somewhere is the other half of ourselves – and when they meet they melt into each other and live happily ever after," Cathy recited.

"Where on earth do you get these ideas, Cathy? No – I don't want to know where you got that quote from – you've said a lot of odd things but this tops the lot. One thing my mother always says – is that even though she's let me have, as she calls them, 'beaux', because she's an old-fashioned witch, since I was fourteen – she's been rather pessimistic about the outcomes. She told me that you can't possibly be mature enough to fall in love until you're about twenty-one."

"Why twenty-one? Why not twenty, or twenty-two?"

"I think she's plucking an estimate out of the sky. Anyway, so mother goes, 'Hesper, watch out, never give yourself away completely, not until you're _married_. Everything before you are twenty-one is pure infatuation'."

"I thought she was referring to _giving away something else_," said Cathy.

"Well, there is that, but then she also does say, 'just enjoy the ride, fate will carry you to where you ought to be, remember you get a few practice runs before the real thing…unlike the NEWTs…'"

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players – and I suppose we do get some dress rehearsals," mused Cathy. "As You Like It."

"As I like it?"

"No I was talking about the Shakespeare play."

"Cathy, do you have _any_ originality or do you just quote others? Even ALBUS DUMBLEDORE has outgrown that daft habit!" Hesper stopped herself and gritted her teeth. "All right, I shouldn't have said that, but I wasn't thinking properly."

"What were you thinking about, then?"

"I wanted to talk about you! You and Albus – what's happening?"

"What? Nothing! What do you think my parents would think? I was raised by muggles, they have completely different…social codes!"

"Like what?"

"Like, I have to 'come out' officially first, there's this big ceremony where I end up having to be presented to the Queen et cetera."

Hesper's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? Does everyone in the muggle world get this? But there are so many muggles…"

"It's very elitist, all the old…aristocratic…families. And over-glorified," said Cathy, looking at the floor. She never quite had gotten over the habit of not looking directly at those talking to her. "And then people will start trying to introduce me to potential husbands."

"I wish that would happen to me," said Hesper, wistfully. "Would make my job a lot easier if they were like, 'this is Merlin, he's from an old pure-blood family, tipped to be the next Minister for Magic, why don't you two hit it off?'"

"It's not like that, Hesper."

"Well I can't help you then, unless you choose to want to stand up and make Albus acknowledge you."

"Hesper, please…you don't know…"

"You'll just keep sitting around asking yourself, 'does he feel the same way?'"

"Hesper, shut it…"

"Don't think I don't notice, you scribbling away late at night in that little diary cum sketchbook of yours, staring out of the window, playing with that infernal Patronus of yours, why don't you just get a real animal? Oh I forgot, because you already have a horse, two dogs and an owl, you little rich girl." She was suddenly scared of the jealous torrent which had poured out of her, so she reverted back to her calmer, almost maternal voice. "Cathy, don't you understand, it hurts me as much as it hurts you?"

"HESPER, SHUT IT!"

Silenced by the shock of hearing Cathy shout for the first time, she stared in horror as Cathy let loose an equally horrible rant.

"Why are you interfering with my life? Is it to keep me out of your way? Ever since you paired up with the Lawrence boy I have had to fend for myself. Once you find a boy it's all dizzy smiles and laughter, and it's only when you are between boys that you come and realise, oh poor little Cathy, I've neglected her. Well, gone are the days when you mothered me because you were tall and beautiful Hesper, and I was little stunted, ugly Cathy, and I – made – you – look – good. I didn't mean anything to you, I was just safe enough – because no wizard would look twice at me – and I was useful – because you wanted my essays. You didn't talk to me for a month in fourth year, and Delta had to try to clean up the mess you left me in!"

"My god," said Hesper. "You're mad." She marched away, leaving a tear-stained Catherine Carlton behind her. "No, you aren't mad, anyone can see you're a cry-baby who's used to being rottenly spoilt by her older brother and mama and papa…"

"And it's your own fault that Emeric happened!" Cathy screamed as a final remark.

Hesper kept walking. "Grow up, Cathy!"

_It's a funny thing, attention. Once they get a scattering more than usual, children start craving it all the time._

"You don't know me," Cathy whimpered.

_She fancies she's no longer ugly, so she's deserving of attention. But I won't be giving any to her._

**H.S.V.S**

Cathy had scared Hesper for the first time, and this time they didn't talk until the winter holidays were well over. Hesper even forgot that Cathy had come of age, until one very peculiar moment in McValley's round office. All the sixth-year prefects had gathered, minus Albus.

Right then, Albus came running in."Sorry – so sorry – Professor, was in the library, forgot the time."

"Ah, no problem, Albus, I take it you are not of age yet?"

"No, sir, this July I'll be turning seventeen."

"Right. I'll have to make sure you get a good watch then."

"It's tradition to give a wizard a watch when he comes of age," explained Hesper to a bewildered Harvey, hoping that McValley was watching for once. But he wasn't even looking up from his book – no – his own pocket-watch – and to make matters worse, he now shut his eyes.

"Seven minutes past seventeen hours. The tenth anniversary of my mother's death," he said.

Everyone opened their mouths to express their apologies, but it was if he had magic eyes; he waved his hand at them to silence their condolences. "She was one of those people who just…didn't quite belong to this world…rather like a magnolia flower, which is beautiful, but only blossoms in winter…in a time of death and desolation…"

All through this, Hesper wondered how they, sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds, were supposed to deal with this middle-aged wizard who was intent on airing his angsty, dirty robes in front of them? And if he didn't want sympathy, why was he asking for it? He sounded like Cathy…

**H.S.V.S**

Of course, Albus's coming of age was done with perfect timing – in the midst of midsummer. Funnily enough, he was possibly the youngest in the year, since everyone else had already turned seventeen. And Delta had organised a surprise birthday party to celebrate, and Cathy had 

volunteered her house for the event. "_Dress for a royal affair_," the invitation had read. "_Interpret theme as you will. (i.e. you dimwits, it's a costume party)_"

"Welcome to Manderleigh, a midsummer night's dream," said Cathy, when Hesper Apparated on her doorstep. "Queen of Hearts, very nice!" _Cathy is but a child, and children forgive._

Hesper was extremely taken by Cathy's great, grand house, set on acres of sprawling estate. "How many rooms do you have here – a hundred or something?"

Cathy threw her head back and laughed. "I don't know, I never counted!" her black hair was crimped, set off by a large tiara of crystal and silver, the shape of which reminded Hesper of Ravenclaw's diadem.

"Wait a bit, how did you get your parents out? Sure, they're muggles, but…you haven't locked them into the pantry or something, have you?" In the space of nine months, Cathy had gone from dreamy Cathy to unpredictable Cathy. It was as if she had acquired a few of Delta's distasteful attributes.

"What are you talking about? Of course not – they've gone to make their yearly pilgrimage to France – but I told them I had the NEWTs, and that I'd stay behind and 'study'. Charlie's here with me – but he thinks it's 'such a lark' – you'll love him when you meet him! The servants weren't so easy to convince though, I had to pledge them a fair bit of hocus-pocus to make sure my parents wouldn't find out."

A thin, dark young man pushed his way past Cathy and greeted Hesper. "I'm The Doctor. I'm here to make sure that if anyone drinks Firewhisky to the point of unconsciousness…"

"You must be Charles," interrupted Hesper. _The muggle older brother, of course. _And then Hesper noticed, "Cathy, you have wings!"

Indeed, a pair of matching ice-blue wings was jutting out from Cathy's shoulders. "Don't worry, mother Hesper, I haven't been Transfiguring myself, they're entirely detachable. Can you guess what I am? I gave you a hint before!"

"Who?"

"Titania, Queen of the Fairies – from Midsummer Night's Dream of course! Come on, why are you standing outside the door like that? Come on in! A few people are already here…"

"Oh, so _that's what_ Titania, Jupiter's moon was named after!" Hesper came inside and was led into a room the size of the Ravenclaw common room, but twice as cluttered, owing to additions such as the enormous piano, about as big as three broomsticks laid end-to-end. There was Delta, her old animated self, dressed up as Hippolyte, Queen of the Amazonians, jesting with her cousin Phineas, and Libatius. On another lounge-chair, Phyllida Spore was talking to Elphias Doge and Harvey. And in the corner was Hazel Rookwood, with Caspian Radcliffe and Stella Moon, probably picking their brains to find out how to blitz the NEWTs. And there were plenty of other people, whom Hesper guessed must be Gryffindors.

That summer had been the longest drag ever that far; Hesper couldn't stop herself from constantly checking the family owls.

Any day now, she told herself, she was going to get the letter from Hogwarts that she was going to be Head Girl. Someone had told her that Albus was a definite Head Boy. And now that Libatius was a long-forgotten dream, she was happy with that, knowing the Head Girl couldn't possibly come from Gryffindor – surely McValley would at least pretend to be impartial.

Moreover, Hesper had heard that Delta had been made Gryffindor Quidditch Captain, so she would most definitely be out of the running. And McValley's disdain for Hufflepuffs was famous. And he wasn't too fond of the Slytherins either – hadn't he expelled three times as many Slytherins as Hufflepuffs? Really, he had reorganised the school so that it favoured the Ravenclaws. Hesper wouldn't have been surprised if both Head Girl and Head Boy came from Ravenclaw House, if she hadn't had the foreknowledge.

"Who are the other Quidditch Captains?" she asked Harvey, casually sitting down next to him.

"Moira Malfoy for Slytherin – she's in fifth year, but she's a brilliant Seeker – and there's Crystal O'Dell for Ravenclaw…"

Hesper's insides started dancing; Derrick Rutherford was going to be furious that he had been upstaged by a sixth-year girl and it was going to be hilarious now, watching Quidditch. She barely heard what Harvey said next.

"… and of course, there's Joshua James Leonard, and there's me."

"Hang on, Leonard, did you say?"

"Yes, Jay Jay Leonard, he's been playing Chaser for Gryffindor for years. Did you think it was Delta? I did think she might get it, but perhaps McValley has other ideas…"

"Yes…she…" Something inside Hesper started to panic. But surely not! Delta, who was loud and uncouth and a tomboy and outrageous and noisy and disruptive and unfocused…

"She, who is the cat's mother!" said Delta, punching Hesper. For the first time, Hesper was thankful for Delta's intervention. "The birthday boy is coming!" said Delta, now in a stage whisper. They ran and hid, and when Albus, dressed in a flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet, entered the room, a couple of things exploded, sending glitter everywhere.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ALBUS!" everyone shouted.

Delta popped up from behind a couch, her head a mess of silver glitter. "Good surprise, or bad surprise?"

Albus tapped his chin for a moment. "Good surprise."

"He's lying, said Delta to everyone. He hates surprises."

As Albus protested, Cathy came up close to him to whisper in his ear, ""Well then, how would you react if I told you that…" Hesper didn't hear the rest of her sentence.

Albus did two things nobody had ever seen him do before: he _hugged_ her, and then he shouted. "CONGRATULATIONS CATHY, HEAD GIRL!"

Hesper couldn't contain herself, "What a surprise! Cathy for Head Girl! Who would've thought that our little Cathy could possibly be a leader?" she said, a little more loudly than she had intended.

_I should never have let her near that Beautifying Potion of Tugwood's. We were so happy, the way we were._

Caspian Radcliffe unexpectedly answered her rhetorical question, "Well, it is a rather curious thing, Hesper, but perhaps, sometimes those who are best suited for power are those who have never sought it."

Stella echoed his sentiments. "_Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrown upon them…_Those who have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, often find to their own surprise that they wear it well."

_But we can't turn back time; we've got to make the best of what we've got. _

"I didn't know you could be Head without being a Prefect?" she said to Harvey.

"Well, I didn't know you could be a Prefect _and_ Quidditch Captain either. They're probably more like guidelines than anything."

"Much like life itself," said Stella. "When you learn the game of life, all the rules change overnight."

* * *

_**A/N:  
All You Need is Love and Reviews – The Beatles (for Shubie, Whiskey, Dr Shanty and deeps85)  
Reviews – are – love  
Reviews – are – love  
Reviews – are – love – love – love!  
There's nothing you can do that can't be done  
There's nothing you can sing that can't be sung  
There's nothing you can do,  
But you can learn how to review  
It's easy!  
All you need is reviews!  
**_

_I hope none of you have read my original fic from my early teens. But I had 2 main characters, Caspian and Stella, who got married, so this is a sneaky reference. And yeah, Hesper here was more of a "foil" to show off Cathy and various others, because Cathy's real part is coming later…because, we're going to meet Albus properly next! And just a hint for the plot – the idea of Cathy as Head Girl really irritates me – she doesn't strike me as much of a leader. But it had to be done._


	18. Chapter 17: Albus: Iustitia

Chapter 17: Iustitia, by Albus

_It is the last night before you are due to return to Hogwarts for your final year, and NEWT-magic is slowly boring you to death. So you have turned to your lists of Latin vocabulary for amusement. First-declension feminine nouns beginning with "i"._

_Ignorantia, ignorantiae__. Ignorance…_

_(Or rather, what you loathe the most in the world.)_

_Inertia, inertiae__. Lack of skill, idleness, laziness… _

_(The Latin meaning might not suit your current predicament, but the Scientific meaning sums it up perfectly.)_

_Iniuria, inuriae__. Wrong, injury, injustice, insult, outrage, severity, revenge… _

_Insania, insaniae__. Madness, folly, mania, poetic rapture…_

_(You know these all too well. You scan further down your page.)_

_Iustitia, iustitae__. Justice, uprightness, fairness…_

_Now that is a word worthy of contemplation, since you have a suspicion that there is no ultimate justice in the world. For if there was some force that ensured everyone received their just deserts, how could your family exist in its current state? Percival Dumbledore, dead at the age of forty-four. Kendra Dumbledore, who is not quite forty, but who has borne as many physical and emotional knocks as a witch twice her age. Aberforth Dumbledore, whose magical potential is wasted on beasts of burden. Ariana Dumbledore, whose mind is mind frozen at the age of seven. And you, Albus Dumbledore, barely seventeen, with a mind that deserves so much more than to be trapped by the bars of time. _

_Iu-sti-ti-a. The word rolls off your tongue so charmingly. _

_It has so much potential, just like you.  
_

**A.P.W.B.D.**

Albus was accosted by Phineas Black in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts. "Apparently we have acquired another member of the Black clan. Belvina, say hello to Albus Dumbledore, the Head Boy!" The small girl looked up at Albus, put on an indiscernible expression and ran off after her brother Arcturus.

Albus raised his eyebrows at Phineas' patronizing tone. "In my head, she's a perpetual four-year-old," the boy apologised.

"Also," said Phineas, "I just bumped into McValley, he wants to see you later tonight. I think you're immune to Curfew now. Congrats again, old chap."

It was about ten o'clock when Albus turned up in front of the griffin door, hoping that this what McValley had meant by "later tonight".

"Speak, friend and enter," said McValley, once Albus had knocked. "I hope you had a good seventeenth birthday."

"I did, thank you."

"Cari invited me, but I didn't think I belonged there, I would have been out of place with all you vivacious seventeen-year-olds."

_Cari. The Fairy. Very Wary. Scary. Cherry. Cherie. It was always about her! Catherine Carlton!_ thought Albus, making up rhymes in his head in exasperation. Sometimes he wished they'd never gone anywhere near the realm of nicknames._  
_

"See, I have a present for you. I said I was going to get you a watch – but I realised your mother probably had that covered. May I please have a look, by the way?"

Albus showed him the watch that had twelve planets around the edge, and twelve little hands that were constantly moving.

"Of course. It's spectacular. What else did you get?" asked McValley.

McValley and Albus were on friendly terms, so Albus thought nothing of it, rattling off a list, "Oh, I got loads of books – like from Hesper, Elphias, Harvey, Phineas, Phyllida and Libatius. Delta gave me a book too, but the funny girl, you'll never believe what she got me."

"What?" his eyes twinkled behind his distinctive blue glasses, which McValley had taken to wearing even indoors.

"The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Said that even though I 'was a man'", Albus emphasized the quotation marks with appropriate hand gestures, "I needed to be able to appreciate things like house-elves' and children's tales of love, loyalty and innocence..."

"She's very right," said McValley.

"Cari's another inimitable girl. She knitted me a pair of red socks like yours, and somehow acquired a Pensieve."

"I suppose _My Pensive Girl_ took the Romeo and Juliet quote a tad too seriously…but it brings us to the topic of memories – here, Albus, I want you to have this."

It was the musical waterfall which he had fallen in love with two years ago, with three rocky tiers and hollows to hold memories of musical pieces. It instantly washed away the disenchanted sensation which had settled upon him with the words "My Girl". "Professor, I can't possibly accept this," Albus said quietly.

"Oh – but I insist!" McValley waved his wand, and his marvellous music box folded up into itself, and a purple silk ribbon appeared out of nowhere, tying it all together. "Something tells me you're _meant_ to have it. Besides, I daresay I have too many possessions as it is. Besides, it is by giving of ourselves that we receive."

**A.P.W.B.D.**

_Distinguish between the doctrines of determinism and fatalism. Can one be a determinist but not a fatalist, and vice versa?_

Albus drew the curtains of his four-poster bed around him, cast a _Muffliato_ charm, tapped the music box and fed into it the first songs that came to his head. He uncorked his ink bottle, dipped the quill in and started on his Lexicology essay, which, although it was due tomorrow, he was confident he could complete in an hour or so. The words about fatalism and determinism flowed out of him like the memories of Debussey's dreamy notes cascaded down in silvery threads.

_Fatalism, a logical doctrine about truth, involves the concept that every statement is either true or false; it always has been and always will be._

McValley could be such a fatalist sometimes; really, he acted as if some things were simply _meant_ to happen. _You're meant to have it. It had to happen. _

_Universal determinism is an empirical doctrine about causality, and states that everything that happens is the consequence of causally sufficient conditions._

Albus liked the idea of determinism – that you could link things to their causes – that you could be sure that things had happened for a reason – that our lives weren't just a series of random accidents. There was a reason why Ariana had been left the way she was, there was a reason why Albus had no father, and – this made him smile – there even was a reason for Aberforth's fixation with goats. Reasons and causes gave him comfort and (above all) hope.

The song ended, and instead of allowing it to repeat, Albus removed it from the waterfall. He then filled it with one of the songs from _Carmen_, something with more energy. Even though he didn't understand the words, he could imagine McValley singing them in his rich baritone voice, which had remained strong and youthful in spite of his greying hair and furrowing brow.

"_Toreador, en garde! Toreador, Toreador!  
Et songe bien, oui, songe en combattant  
Qu'un oeil noir te regarde,  
Et que l'amour t'attend,  
Toreador, L'amour t'attend!_"

**A.P.W.B.D.**

"Albus, how many hours of studying are you getting done a day?" asked Elphias. "More or less than ten?"

Albus was shocked, "Less, of course; I don't think it's possible, given that we only have twenty-four hours in a day, to do more than six."

Elphias was genuinely terrified. "I'm going to fail NEWTs, Albus," he moaned, latching onto Albus' arm like a leech. "I've been getting P's in all my Transfiguration essays – I'm putting everything I have into it, and yet it doesn't seem to be enough – and I'm going to fail everything!"

"Calm down, Elphias," said Delta. "You can't absorb knowledge via skin-to-skin contact."

McValley had warned him a bit about sharing everything with Elphias. For some reason, he seemed not to like the little Gryffindor boy. Or Aberforth, for that matter. He had claimed they were on "different wavelengths". But Albus ignored the voice in his head, saying, "No, it's all right, just find me in the common room tonight and we'll go through Transfiguration.

Unfortunately, once Albus had started helping Elphias in his spare time, there were immediately a dozen people lining up for help, some of whom weren't even doing their NEWTs this year, but, Albus suspected, wanted to make use of him before he left their school forever. Still, he sighed, and held their hands as they swished and flicked their way through. Better than never letting them learn how to control their magic.

At that point they were learning about Protean charms – changing multiple objects using a master copy. But Albus had been doing that since fourth year, when he had decided to send Christmas cards to all the people from whom he had received them the year before. And the same went for non-verbal spells; he had long dispensed with saying incantations out loud (he liked being privileged enough to be the only one with the knowledge of what he would do next). He feared he might be turning into Delta, since the only things that had amused him for a month or two were the arts of Legilimency and Occlumency, which Professor Merrythought had mentioned in fleeting. It had gotten him thinking about the difference between minds and souls.

_What should one do with a soul – no – a mind that wouldn't stop wandering?_

Albus had learned to curb, or at least divert, his frustration when fellow classmates took twice or thrice as long to learn something, but as he grew older, he became more and more envious of the joy they got when, after struggling to climb a mental mountain, they could look back, and see how far they had come. Such as when one Saturday morning Cari had managed to turn the freshly-squeezed orange juice in front of her into eye-poppingly strong coffee with nothing but a jab of her wand. She had come running over to the Gryffindor table, trying to charm him into drinking it, although he had nearly choked ("This is coffee?" "Yes." "It's horribly bitter." "Oh sorry, I drink mine without sugar. Most people add sugar." "That's because you're sweet enough without it." "Oh, Delta...")

_Oh, McValley_, thought Albus, sinking into the pillows behind him, and re-adjusting the books on top of his knees. His quill scratched roughly over the parchment, nearly punching a hole as he wrote:

_Pain and pleasure are inseparable things, for it is through sadness and suffering that we are able to define such a thing as happiness._

**A.P.W.B.D.**

"Where _is_ that girl?" asked McValley, at one of their lively tête-a-têtes.

"I fear she may have fallen asleep over her books. The poor girl is so stressed about the NEWTs." Albus wasn't stressed; on the contrary, he had been venting his pent-up boredom in ways that made him devoutly thankful that she could not perform Legilimency.

"Are you?"

"No," said Albus.

"Rightly said – why should you be? Cari though…really, she rides the wind; she goes wherever it takes her. She's as powerful and free and changeable as a summer breeze. And that's why there's really only one thing that worries me about you."

"What's that, Professor?"

"You are like fire…you have this incredible energy…intellectual, emotional, creative…and the only concern I have is that one day you'll let it take over. Like…don't ever allow yourself to be completely inflamed by love."

Albus pretended to be very interested in one of the books on McValley's desk by someone called Sigmund Freud.

"Of course," McValley kept going, "being in love is a wonderful feeling."

Albus hoped the fact McValley was now looking out the window would hide the colour in his face.

"But I'm worried, Albus, that you might…commit yourself too far…your first love, for example…because you're not the sort of person…who's had a lot of experience…it might not be good for you…just…exercise some self-control…"

Albus knocked the book onto the floor and had to dive under the table to pick it up.

"Ah, Freud – that's a very good book, you've read it, I take it?"

Once Albus had emerged from underneath the table, his face was its usual colour. "No," he said. "I haven't read it."

"Oh you've got to read it – go on, borrow it! It's my own copy, not from the library or anything. Not that Hogwarts library would stock anything like that; Madam Pilliwickle would think it was a waste of space." Albus clasped McValley's book close to his heart. "You're lonely, aren't you, Albus?" said the Professor.

Albus looked at him sharply.

"You know, Cari cares about you," he said.

Albus shut his eyes and sighed. "I know - she gave me a nickname in third year..."

He strongly wanted to say _suggests to me that she wants to play Basil Hallward to a Dorian Gray_, but his innate sense of discretion stopped him.

"You don't feel that way about her?" asked McValley.

"Well – no – not exactly – I mean I've always thought of her as another sister…" Albus attempted to disguise his awkwardness with laughter (after all, it seemed ridiculous that he could love Cari, whom he saw as the sister he should have had).

"Good," McValley approved. "You would be terrible together. She's a worthy second-in-command, as I'm sure you will find many witches and wizards are, a loyal companion, a dependable friend, but she's not…your equal."

McValley rose and walked all the way to the window, leaning his elbows on the stony sill. "Everyone…deserves an equal," his voice died.

Albus couldn't control himself. "Sir, do you believe…where's your equal, do you believe?"

Albus could see, even from the distance that McValley's eyes were full of tears as he looked at him."I used to know one. Every bit as brilliant as the sunrise, and every bit as beautiful as the sunset."

"Used…" Albus faltered too.

"But don't worry about me, I'm old," said McValley. I know you will find someone one day – someone who understands you better than you understand yourself."

The awkwardness was growing, so Albus said goodnight, and traced his way back to the dormitories, thinking to himself.

_Don't be stupid. He doesn't care for you any more than any other teacher is fascinated by you. You learn to walk on your own two feet, alone, and that's the way it has to be._

"How was your meeting with McValley?" asked Elphias, as Albus slipped into the adjacent four-poster bed.

"I think the word 'fiasco' would not be misapplied."

"Because it went on until so late?"

"No – it was because Cari didn't turn up. However, McValley had some books he thought might interest me, so it wasn't a complete misuse of time."

"What are they on?"

"Freud's theories of Psychiatry. Freud says that we know other people better than we know ourselves."

"Do you think that's true, Albus?"

"Maybe," he said. "I honestly don't know."

**A.P.W.B.D.**

The NEWTs came and went, continuing the inertia of the year. Albus couldn't believe he had ever thought that they would be "nastily exhausting". For example, the tiny Professor Marchbanks had burst into tears during his Charms practical exam, because he had apparently "done things with a wand which she had never seen before".

Unless he was very much mistaken, he had just achieved ten O's, and with his plans to travel the world well underway, he had never experienced such a feeling as now, as the Hogwarts Express carried him away for the last time.

Elphias had the clearest smile on his face; the NEWTs had been a two-year battle for him, and Albus knew he deserved two months off to travel the world. Whether he, Albus, deserved it, was a more difficult question, but he brushed it aside. He was going to see Paris – the place which Cari had described to him so many times. He was going to Egypt – to discover the history of all those mad Egyptian wizards. He was going to Rome to throw coins in the Trevi fountain. He was going to...

"I might have failed though – because what if I wrote the wrong student number at the top of my paper, or I forgot to label something?" Cari flapped about, evidently trying to get some attention.

"Catherine! The NEWTs have turned you psychotic!" exclaimed Delta, hoisting the much smaller girl onto her back. Cari perched herself there happily, arms around Delta's neck and legs around her waist. "Let's drop you off to St Mungo's when we get back to London," said Delta, making a show of walking the door with her. This year had brought Cari and Delta even closer together, and rather disconcertingly, their attributes had begun to merge.

"You're right though, there's no use crying over spilt milk," said Cari. "Live for the moment! Just for this moment! CARPE DIEM!" she jumped down, opened the window of the train compartment, and screamed her little lungs out.

"She's insane; I say we stop off at St Mungo's before The Leaky Cauldron," said Phineas. But now Delta was standing on top of the seat, her arms around Cari, as they held each other and sang strange French songs. "Delta! Are you sure you really understand what you are singing?"

"Oh YES I DO!"

"What's it about?" asked Elphias.

Cari said, "I believe it is a romance, and the narrator is singing about her love for her sweetheart."

Hesper stuck her pretty nose into the compartment. "No, it's about an unmarried woman who has two lovers."

It had taken half a year, but the Ravenclaw pair was on speaking terms again, since some compromises had been made. Cari was to stop quoting obscure seventeenth-century literature and Hesper was to not neglect her, even if she was seeing Harvey Ridgebit, and even if this attachment looked like it might last.

If things couldn't get any madder, just then, an owl fell through the window, buffeted by the strong winds; Harvey caught it. "It's addressed to you, Albus," he said, not opening it.

Indeed, the letter had been written, in black ink and plain, bare, almost _cold_ handwriting. The music paled to gibberish around him as he read it; he threw the letter to the floor, wrenched open the door and wandered up and down the train in search of Aberforth.

Unbeknownst to him, Cari had picked up the fallen letter.

"Oh my god," she said, "Albus' mother just died."

Never again would Albus complain about the absence of pain.

* * *

_**A/N: Christina Aguilera – Slow Down Baby and Review**_

_Stop! Slow down, baby…_

_I can tell that you're into me  
With my stats it's so plain to see  
I can see it in your eyes  
You're paralysed, every time a character dies_

_So…slow down baby, and don't act crazy  
Cos you know, you can read all you want  
But there'll be no Mary-Sues!  
So slow down baby, cause I'm your lady  
But you're never gonna get it from me  
Unless you leave a review!_

**_Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter - WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, Dr. Shanty, sunny88, Shubie, deeps85, Anomalous Anonymous and RainbowRainbird! I can't believe we've hit 100 reviews! I love you guys! _**

**_Hope this chapter answered a lot of your questions (eg: Dory - term of endearment for Dorian Gray)! And please pronounce "Cari" to rhyme with "Fairy".  
_**

**_Here we went back to vague references to my old philosophy tutors from high school, and the BBC's production of Jane Eyre. I don't think there'll be any in the next chapter!_**


	19. Chapter 18: Albus: Impervius

Chapter 18: Impervius, by Albus

"_Let it all out," says Delta, sitting next to you in the church and gripping your shoulder. You've just had to give the elegy and it has really taken all you had to keep from breaking down. "Impervius," she says, tapping your glasses. You could've done a slightly better job of it, but it's the thought that counts. _

_Elphias leans over from behind and presses his cheek to yours. "Don't be sad, Albus, she wouldn't have wanted you to be sad. She died doing what she loved…she would never have done anything else…"_

_Little do they know that your tears are those of frustration and shattered dreams rather than grief. Elphias states the obvious – ever since your father died in fifth year, you have suspected that your mother does not have long in this world. _

_She leaves milk on the kitchen bench-top in the summer heat and forgets about it until it spoils. She has inexplicable bursts of tears, and you and Aberforth can hear her howling through the night for "Percival" from the room next door. All her fine silk gowns are getting moth-eaten in the cupboards, as she can no longer fit into them, and besides, she says, she has no reason to ever don them again. The piano goes out of tune, since she refuses to let anybody from outside the family touch it. The aura of magic around her fades into oblivion. At the end she cannot even raise her wand to protect herself from little Ariana. _

_Cari is on your other side, entwining her fingers in your hand and squeezing it. _

_McValley has come to pay his respects too. _

"_You're a Seer," you say. "You knew that we'd meet again soon."_

"_Oh – God – Albus – I didn't mean it that way – I forgot – I mean – I can't believe it either."_

_The string quartet strike up a beautifully layered tune._

"_Pachelbel's Canon," McValley says. "We had it at my mother's funeral as well."_

"_I know – you told me," you say._

"_The stories of our lives are so very alike, so very inextricably linked," says McValley. "I shall miss you very much when I am in Australia."_

"_You'll write, won't you? I'm going to be so lonely this summer."_

"_You won't be lonely," he says, evasively. He takes off your misted glasses and wipes them on his own black robes, while looking deeply into your eyes for what you suddenly realise is the first, and the last time. "You'll be all right," McValley says. _

_Your eyes are full of tears again. So many dreams you shared with him – you remember the night when the two of you laughed over possible career choices, and Binns looked on in disbelief. _

"_I love music," you said then. "I could always do something in the wizard music industry, bring to it a fresh breath of air, you know, being half-muggleborn…"_

"_You might as well edit Transfiguration Today, how many articles have you had published there? Thirteen?"_

"_I could be a writer! A novelist! Or something!"_

" _What about Healing? Your grades are certainly good enough! You could train Healers one day!"_

"_Or I could teach…"_

"_What, and usurp my position? Not that I'd mind, of course! Anything's possible with you…"_

_But none of these are possible any more – because the burden of being Ariana's full-time carer has fallen to you. And all it has taken is a trio of muggle boys, about Aberforth's age, who killed Ariana's future, killed your father by sending him to Azkaban, killed your mother, and now has killed all your dreams._

**A.P.W.B.D.**

"Cari! What are you doing here?" asked Albus, two days after the funeral. "Aren't you supposed to be in Paris?"

"No, this season I'm a debutante, and I have…'duties'…but Delta will be there soon, I miss her already." She cringed. "But, I sneaked…rather, Apparated out for a moment…because I needed to know you were all right," she said. "I needed to check on you. I couldn't sleep knowing what you were going through."

Right then, something exploded in a room on the other side of the house. Albus knew only too well what it was, and ran. Unfortunately, his long legs didn't give him as much of an advantage as they should have, and Cari was hot on his heels. Albus flung aside the door of Ariana's bedroom, wand raised, assessing the damage. But Cari didn't stop; she went right into the room, and ran to comfort the screaming girl.

"GET OUT!" screamed Albus, standing in between Cari and Ariana, who sent into motion a blazing fireball. Albus swept his wand through the air, which set up a white shield that absorbed the blast. Ariana lost consciousness; Albus and Cari ran to her and laid her gently on her bed before exiting the bedroom, shutting the door and sinking down to the floor in front of it.

"Cari! I believe you've met my sister, Ariana," panted Albus. "Now, promise me you won't ever go near her again."

"But…she needs help!"

Of course Cari would try to help, thought Albus, remembering Harvey and fifth year. But he violently shook the memories from his mind, and answered, "You can't help – none of us can. I don't want you to get hurt unnecessarily."

"But I…" Cari couldn't bring herself to say it. "I nearly – I – I – I can help! Someone's got to _try_, she can't live her life like this, this isn't living, this is being enslaved…to an illness…"

"Do you think we haven't tried?" Albus gripped Cari's shoulders and shook the daylights out of her. "Did I ever tell you how my mother died? My mother _died trying to help her_. I'm not going to lose anyone else whom…I care about…"

Cari looked at Albus expectantly, and he realised he had said the wrong thing. She put her hands around his waist. "Dory…."

Things had never been more awkward between them, not even when in sixth year she had tried greeting him in Shakespearean phrases ("_A thousand times goodnight!_") and rhyming couplets (_"__My Heart is like a singing bird, whose nest is in a watered shoot/My Heart is like an apple-tree, whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit…__"_).

"Look, you'd better not come here again for a while," he said, reluctantly adding a note of sharpness in his voice." It's dangerous – only Aberforth and I seem to be able to contain her. I'm sorry I won't be able to see much of you these holidays."

"But…but aren't you coming to Bathilda's party on July the seventh?"

"Bathilda invited you?"

"Yes…why…she told me you were coming, that was part of the reason she invited me, she even wrote to my parents and convinced them that she was perfectly respectable. She really wants to cheer you up, Bathilda, and she suggested that if it all got a bit too much for you, at least I would be there. That, and she says she has someone she wants to introduce to the both of us who's arriving a few days before."

"Who?"

"She says she wants to surprise me."

Albus finally managed to compose himself. "She ought to know that surprises are not my cup of tea."

"Go ask her yourself then! Why, what did she tell you?"

Albus bit his lip. "Clearly not as much as she told you. Nevertheless, you need to leave at once – it isn't safe, Ariana's set the house on fire before when she gets into her rages, please Cathy. I'll see you on Friday the seventh." She looked as if she might cry, then Disapparated.

Albus hadn't been planning to go to his neighbour Bathilda Bagshot's party at all. They'd either be mother hens, clucking "you poor dear", or parrots parroting "you're so wonderful", or vultures. How would Bathilda have gotten-to-know Cari? It must have been those damned NEWTs in the Daily Prophet. Hogwarts had never seen such brilliance before; six students with all "Outstanding" NEWTs, and people attributed it to McValley's wonderful new methods. However, the fact that McValley was not replying to his owls still disturbed Albus; had all their conversations over the past year therefore meant absolutely nothing, and only been a ploy to motivate him to get good marks?

**A.P.W.B.D.**

Ms Bagshot was steering towards them a young man with an abundance of wild, curly hair. "Catherine, Albus, this is my nephew Gellert Grindelwald, who's spending this summer with me, he just arrived from the Continent…"

"Dory…" Cari whispered in his ear "he's half-Veela, isn't he?

"Dory?!" the blonde companion turned to Albus." What kind of a name is that?" His voice was smooth, but unmistakeably German. Certainly there could be no Veela blood in him. They shook hands, and Albus felt a scrap of parchment fall into his palm. As they let go, he crumpled it up.

"No, no, you misunderstand me," explained Cari, who had started to blush at being overheard. "I meant…I meant…you! I mean _you're_ the splitting image of…Dorian Grey!"

Albus flinched, but said nothing. Firstly, he couldn't work out what Cari was playing at, and secondly, he was enchanted by the boy's eyes; he could have sworn that one was as green as McValley's, and one was blue as his own.

The boy realised that he was staring. "It's all right, I'm used to it. No, it's not a trick of the light, I was born that way. It's called _heterochromia_."

"_Hetero_, for different, and chromia meaning colour," said Albus, before Cari could say it. But she was still silent, slightly pink from her first blunder. (Veela indeed)

"I – I – I think I'll go out into the garden now," she stammered at last, before turning on her heel and almost flying out the door.

"It's all right," said Gellert Grindelwald, as Albus opened his mouth automatically to apologise for his friend's bizarre behaviour. "I gather she's a rather shy child, with her downcast eyes, I was like that once."

"How old are you?" asked Albus.

"So impertinent a question so early on," said Grindelwald merrily. "How promising! I see that you and I will most certainly have a most interesting conversation together!"

Albus was beginning to think that Cari's absence did not matter; he could remedy things with her later. For _now_, there was…

"And _I_ am but sixteen, but I will come of age two weeks from now."

"You're younger than us!" exclaimed Albus, surprised by the boy's composure. "Catherine's eighteen, she doesn't look it, I know, and I'm seventeen."

**A.P.W.B.D.**

The next morning, Albus woke up happy for the first time in weeks, unable to stop thinking about the merry-faced, golden-haired, blue and green eyed young man. It wasn't just, as Cathy had said, that he was "the splitting image of Dorian Grey", it was something more than that. Albus was certain that he knew him before from somewhere, and when Albus was certain, ninety-nine point nine-five percent of the time, he was right.

The Grindelwald boy had had been unafraid to talk of philosophy, of magical theory, of the latest in _Transfiguration Today_, or of fairy tales ("I believe all legends have some basis in fact, my favourite is Beedle the Bard's Tale of the Three Brothers, which tells the story of the triad of the wand, the stone and the cloak"), or about whether lemon flavoured candy was better than lime. And very interestingly for a sixteen-year-old wizard, he had stronger opinions on politics than on Quidditch. His father had read him Thomas Moore's _Utopia_ when he was four, and he claimed this had sparked his interest in sociology. ("Particularly concerning conflicting groups – women and men, natives and settlers, muggles and wizards…probably because I was always in conflict with my father.")

Albus decided to track him down; after all, Bathilda had said he was staying with her, and she had also said that Albus was welcome to visit her house whenever he had the time. ("You poor dears, did you know, Gellert lost his mother when he was only five? The two of must keep each other company".)

So after leaving some food out on the kitchen table for Ariana and Aberforth, he walked over to next door, and rang the bell. No one answered. That must be one of the downsides, he thought, to having a mansion. If he ever had a big house, he would make sure the doorbell was bewitched to echo throughout the entire house.

He went around the back, where a large tree grew alongside the house. A pair of disembodied legs was dangling out of the foliage. And then Gellert Grindelwald jumped out of it, landing lightly on the ground and looking very pleased with himself. "Albus Dumbledore, we meet again!"

He looked even more handsome by day; the sunlight gleamed on his blonde hair, and made his unusually coloured eyes glitter. "You can come inside," he said. "I think Bathilda's still asleep after last night."

Grindelwald led him to a bright sitting-room ("It's the furthest away from Aunt Bathilda's bedroom"). He reclined, stretching himself across one of the lounge chairs, his head on one arm-rest and his legs dangling 

over the other. Albus sat down (the proper way) on the chair next to it. The boy arched his neck, so that his upside-down face was staring at Albus as they talked.

"Surely you must be uncomfortable in that position," said Albus, after some time.

"Uncomfortable here? Never!" Gellert ran his hands absent-mindedly running through his hair. "Compared to the chairs we had in our common room at Durmstrang…"

"I still find it difficult to believe you took _twelve_ subjects at Durmstrang. Your school must have worked you very hard indeed – we only could fit a maximum of ten subjects into our timetables."

"Oh it was easy," said Gellert. "We were given time turners."

"A _time turner_?"

"Yes – just so that we could turn back an hour or two. Time turners on the whole aren't particularly powerful magical objects, you know."

"But surely – you don't mean – a real _time turner_?"

"I mean, of course we had to hand them back at the end of the year, so that we couldn't get up to mischief in the holidays – but our headmaster wrote letters to our Ministry of Magic so that the best students would be able to take as many subjects as they wanted to."

"What was it like? And when are you going back?"

"I'm not going back," said Gellert, screwing up his eyes tightly. "I was expelled."

"B- But Gellert," spluttered Albus, shocked, "You're brilliant – probably one of the best students in your school – how could they possibly expel you?"

"Well, shun me as you will – it's no less than what my father has done, back in good old Deutschland."

Albus suddenly realized that this must be the reason for Gellert's mysterious appearance in Godric's Hollow; his aunt must have offered him a refuge from his infamy on the continent.

"How could I possibly shun you? People can be expelled from school for next to no reason at all – when I was in my fifth year, a boy called Artemis was expelled…for starters he got on the wrong side of the Headmaster, and then one of his Transfiguration experiments went wrong…and it wasn't even his fault, a couple of other boys pushed him into attempting to recreate a Quintaped…never mind what that is…nevertheless, the point is that _none of the others_ were expelled, probably because they weren't in the Headmaster's least favourite house, and their families did have connections to the Ministry," said Albus, remembering Harvey's words pertaining to a certain blonde boy.

Gellert's eyes widened, but the relief that flooded his body was even more visible. He reached out and took Albus' hand in his. "My story is something like that. I was attempting to recreate a legendary object, an invisibility cloak with the power to shield its wearer from curses, but my experiment backfired, and a boy was hurt. And I have told you – the culture of Durmstrang is such that we resolve our arguments via duelling – and I had one unfortunate clash with the son of one of the headmaster's friends – I – we – went a bit too far. That, and there was one of my professors themselves…"

"I was lucky," Albus said, wanting to put Gellert more at ease." I did my share of things in school, but my headmaster seemed to like me." He ran his fingertips over Gellert's soft palm.

* * *

_**A/N: Bon Jovi – Living on a Prayer**_

_Albus used to go to Hogwarts  
Then his mother died  
And he's down on his luck…it's tough…so tough…  
Stella works in med school all day  
Then fanfics all night, reviews being her only pay…  
For love – for reviews…_

_They say we've got to hold on…to what we've got  
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not  
We've got each other, and that's a lot  
For love – we'll give it a shot!_

_Woooaaahhh, we're __halfway__ there  
WHOAH! Living on a prayer  
Take my hand, we'll make it, I swear  
WOAH! Living on a prayer!_

_**I kid you not, ladies and gentlemen, we are finally officially HALFWAY through my epic NaNoWriMo 2007! Thank you to the people who have followed Albus' journey so far: **_**Aglaia, Anomalous Anonymous, Aspieturtles, BonniDolle, HiddenDepths-x, ShadowMoonDancer, Shubie, Wand of Destiny, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, deeps85, nighteyes00 and sunny88!**

**_And you have no idea how relieved I am that we finally are on to the Grindeldore. I've missed my favourite pairing so much. If you're interested, you can find many more Grindeldore stories on my profile page and my C2!  
_**


	20. Chapter 19: Albus: Scripsignis

Chapter 19: Scripsignis, by Albus

_In your very first Study of Ancient Runes lesson, you quickly learn that Professor Cato is a one-of-a-kind teacher, and not one to be crossed. She insists on being extremely embarrassing, and reading out everybody's full names as they are written on the roll, after which she assigns you a desk. _

_As she reads names like "Athena Jane Attwood-Plath" and "Phineas Parris Black" you start to dread the sound of your own bombastic name. But then someone gets in the way._

"_Catherine Imogen Aurelia Reinette Carlton?"_

_This girl stands up – she's extremely short – you would have thought her only nine or ten. You've met her before, briefly on the Hogwarts Express (not to mention seeing her in Gryffindor-Ravenclaw combined classes). The raven-haired girl whose face is either hidden by books or blemishes moves to the spot where Cato is pointing._

"_Elphias Doge?" The name of one of your dearest Gryffindor friends is like a breather before…_

"_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"_

_You try to cringe as little as possible as you slide into the seat next to Elphias. _

_The first Runes lesson does not require much effort for you; you have been translating throughout the summer holidays with the help of a copy of Ancient Runes Made Easy. To your surprise, as you look over Elphias, who is crouched over, hoping that reducing the distance between himself and a page will reduce the difficulty of translating it, and see the girl with the long name and hiding habit is concentrating as much as you; she is surreptitiously scribbling something that doesn't look like words (or runes, for that matter). You approach her after class._

"_Catherine Imogen Aurelia Reinette Carlton?" She gives you a quizzical look, and you explain, "I was equally endowed, I know how it feels."_

_She nods. "Never underestimate parents, even if they are muggles…evidently my parents weren't the only ones who went mad with a family tree and a history textbook." _

"_Well, really, it's just the family tree in my case. I got my father's name 'Percival' and my grandfathers' names. My mother's muggle-born. That's where 'Brian' came from." _

"_Mine takes a lot longer to explain," says Cathy. "Scripsignis." _

_She takes out her wand and writes her name in shining letters in the air. _

"_Catherine – from the Greek pure – after my great-great paternal grandmother, Lady Catherine Bingham-Jones. Imogen, an obscure Shakespearean character and obscurer female relation. Aurelia – from the Latin for gold. Reinette – the nickname of Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson, also known as Madame De Pompadour, the mistress of King Louis the fifteenth and a subtle tribute to my mother's French heritage… _

_She's about to flick her wrist to clear the air, but you push it aside gently. _

"_Watch this," you say, proceeding to rearrange the names. You're excited by the possibility of finding someone exactly like you. While Elphias is a dear, and Delta is a deer – a wild doe to be precise, from time to time you do wish that Delta could sit still long enough for you to have a deep and meaningful discussion, or that Elphias could do something more than nod well-meaningly but vacantly. "See, if I just leave the first letter of each name…"_

"_C-A-R-I…?"_

"_There are too many Catherines in the world," you say. It's true – there's two in Gryffindor house alone._

"_You've read Wuthering Heights! Haven't you?"_

"_Of course – my mother loved it – read it to us – can't say my brother liked it very much though." You think of your sister too, how you think she would have loved Emily Bronte too, had what had happened not happened to her. _

"_Oh, brothers," she laughs, and it lights up her face. "Mine calls me 'Kitty'"_

_Kitty is a name which Ariana will answer to, probably because when she was little, they had had a cat. Kitty, the sister whom you should have had, but on the very threshold, was deprived of a sweet life, torn apart, on a black day which snatched her away and drowned and plunged her into bitter darkness. You have learnt to think of her as little as possible, to avoid as much pain as possible._

"… _But I might actually like to adopt that nom de plume, 'Cari'; it doesn't sound nearly as childish."_

_You're mystified. __It rhymes with "Fairy"__. How can it __not __be childish? Still, you don't say anything, and she continues._

"_But what do people call you? Do you get 'Dumbles' a lot too? Or Dora? Like poor Theodore Laurie Lawrence?" It strikes her then, "OH! May I please call you 'Dory'?"_

_Being named after a fish sounds fantastic. She reads your mind._

"_Well…aren't they named because they have nice golden eyes? And…and you have nice eyes!"_

_People don't normally say that you have nice eyes; they tell you that you are smart, they tell you that you are a genius, they tell you that they want their children to grow up like you. Clearly, Cari Carlton is a one-of-a-kind girl._

**A.P.W.B.D.**

Albus threw open the window for his owl with very little enthusiasm. Firstly, he had given up on replies from McValley; it had been all over the Daily Prophet that he had vanished without a trace on holiday in Australia. What could he do? All he could do was to savour McValley's words. "_You are more than what you are, and you will be more than you have ever dreamt that you will be. I expect great things from you, Albus. I don't even ask for remembrance – I just ask that you step out into the world and achieve all the glory you deserve…"_

And secondly, he had been feeling slightly uneasy since Gellert had opened up to him about the Durmstrang affair. Albus had not dared to call upon Gellert a second time, whether by owl or in person, because he now regretted so many things he had said that day. _Had he pushed the German boy too far? Had he trivialised his anxiety? Had he sounded condescending or arrogant? Or worse, a prying…prat…?_

Today, the first thing Albus noticed Hermes was carrying was a post-card.

_**Allie dear,**_

_**Elphie refuses to save paper by sharing a letter. What has he got to say, I wonder? I hope you are all right, and that Cathy is looking after you properly. Make her get out as often as possible - her brother wholly approves. **_

_**We are having a smashing time among the heat and corpses. Sorry, balmy weather and fascinating mummies. Promise to bring you back a few souvenirs. Hesper and Harvey and Phineas and the rest of our tour group say hello.**_

__

_**Am so glad I stopped off here before France. I think I'll wrap up now; short is sweet, and the best things come in the littlest packages.**_

_**Don't worry about me - just look after yourself. Don't feel obligated to write back unless you're ready. We're all thinking of you. **_

_**- Bobbie**_

Albus smiled and put Delta's card up on his shelf. He then slit open a thick envelope, with large, familiar, nearly illegible scribble.

_**Dear Albus,**_

_**I will have the best birthday present waiting for you when you get back.**_

_**It's a baby phoenix – what you always wanted! – did you know, they actually sell them here in Egypt! One can buy all kinds of things here in the markets; there are Dark Detectors like sneakoscopes, there are amusements such as colour-changing fabrics, there are three times as many creatures as the Magical Menagerie of Diagon Alley...**_

_**You wouldn't believe some of the magic which the Ancient Egyptian wizards put on their tombs! Yesterday we went around to have a look and found the skeletons of muggles who had broken in and grown all manner of extra appendages. And the Pyramids themselves are as grand as ever. Amazing, how muggle-Egypt flourished under the guardianship of the Pharaohs/Wizards.**_

_**Tomorrow we will probably venture out to the Museum of Alchemy - I wish you could see it with us! I know how interested and adept you were at Potions at school. I also hear that Egyptian wizards have always been brilliant Astronomers. Hesper says she might like to live here for a while. **_

_**Delta, however is slightly irritated that she is missing the quarter-finals of the Quidditch World Cup. Some company she is. **_

_**How are things in Godric's Hollow? I hope you and your family are keeping well. **_

_**Yours truly, **_

_**Elphias**_

Hermes had been carrying a third object – a handsome golden envelope with a wax seal.

_**My dear Albus -**_

_**The three Hallows, by creating one Master of Death, demonstrate the law of potentiation. By combining them, their power is more than tripled. In the same way, two or more brilliant minds put together, instead of performing as soloists, are infinitely more brilliant. **_

_**I don't believe we finished our conversation yesterday about the integration of wizard and muggle societies. **_

_**Where were we?**_

_**I recall we were examining muggle colonialism and the way some of its paternalistic principles - mind you - SOME - we wouldn't want another Bhoer War or an American Revolution on our hands - could be applied if we were to create a strong Wizarding empire. For the good of wizards and muggles alike. **_

_**- Gellert**_

All of a sudden, Albus' hands were shaking and his blood was pounding in his ears. An invitation to reply? From one who seemed not to have noticed – or minded – any slip of his tongue that day.

Albus picked up his quill and tried to make his handwriting look thoughtful and poised, with neat slanting and looping. This was the second time Gellert had written to him; the first note which he had passed to Albus the night they met had been only a drawing. It had been a triangle, with a circle and line inscribed within it, and Gellert had used it to initiate conversation. ("It's the sign of the Deathly Hallows – legend says that it stands for the three treasures of Beedle's Three Brothers – you are familiar with them! How wonderful!" "Of course – they have whetted my imagination since I was thirteen years old…")

_**Your point about Wizard dominance being for the muggles' own good – this, I think is the crucial point. Yes, we have been given power and yes, that power gives up the right to rule, but it also gives us responsibilities over the ruled. We must stress this point; it will be the foundation stone upon which we build. Where we are opposed, as we surely will be, this must be the basis of all our counterarguments. "We seize control for the greater good". And from this it follows that where we meet resistance, we must use only the force that is necessary and no more. **_

Albus signed his name artistically, replacing the "A" in his name with the symbol. As an afterthought, because the letter could be misread, implying that he _really _intended to go through with what he thought was this hypothetical scheme of Gellert's, he decided to squeeze in a parenthetical statement just above his signature.

_**(This was your mistake at Durmstrang! But I do not complain, because if you had not been expelled, we would never have met.)**_

**A.P.W.B.D.**

Albus was roused from sleep obscenely early the next morning by a hammering on his front door. In the dark, he fumbled around for his glasses, dressing-gown and wand, before Apparating down the corridor and creaking the door open a crack.

"_Guten Morgen_."

Albus was tempted to slam the door in his face, but he swung it open instead, and replied civilly. "Gellert, it's the crack of dawn."

Gellert grabbed Albus' wand out of his hand. "What's this?"

"Give it back," snapped Albus grumpily. It was far too early in the morning.

"Shh, what do you think I'll do at this hour? Hex you? No, that would be counterproductive; you see the point of my waking you this early is so that we can get to work straight away!"

Albus lunged at Gellert, searching for a wand pocket, found it and drew out his opponent's weapon.

"Now you're talking," said Gellert, stroking Albus' wand. "Long, swishy, good for charms? What is it, willow?"

"Willow, with one phoenix tail feather," said Albus, fingering Gellert's. "And yours is much more solid, which is surprising for vine wood?"

"It's the dragon heartstring inside it that gives it that rigidity."



"Ah," said Albus, not quite sure what to say next.

"So, can I come inside then?" asked Gellert, his eyes sparkling in the sunrise. In one swift movement he attempted to charge past Albus and through the doorway, but Albus' reflexes were fast enough to catch Gellert, one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder.

"Gellert, you can't…"

"Why not?"

Albus felt he owed Gellert the truth for sharing. "I have a secret to tell you too," he said. "I don't just have a brother, I have a sister too."

"You are not perchance just referring, metaphorically, to Cathy, whom I met at Bathilda's?"

"Well, I _think_ of her as a sister," said Albus, wanting to make the state of his friendship with Cari clear to Gellert. "But I have a flesh-and-blood sister, and her name is Ariana. And _she's_ the reason I can't have you over at my house. When she was seven, three muggle boys saw her using magic while playing in the garden, and – I don't know exactly what happened – but we think they tried to drown her – and after that she stopped being able to control her magic – it exploded out of her at strange moments – and only weeks ago she brought down a wall and killed our mother, and only days ago she narrowly missed Cari – Cathy – so you see, it's dangerous to be in the house with her in it."

"But I laugh in the face of danger," said Gellert. "I thrive on it. I love it." Gellert put a hand on top of Albus', who realised he was still holding him. He let go, which he regretted immediately, since Gellert strutted into the house uninvited.

Albus raced after him. "But I haven't started on Aberforth yet. He gave me this scar," Albus lifted his robes to show Gellert, "when he was only seven years old."

"What a powerful family you all are!" Gellert marvelled. He plonked himself into a chair, and motioned for Albus to do the same.

"I suppose Aberforth could be, if he wanted to, but he has interests outside the realm of academia." Albus fleetingly thought of poor Enid, one of Aberforth's classmates, who had turned up to give some condolences, and Aberforth had thrown a lump of manure at her. But then Gellert leaned over and ran the back of his fingernail over the thin tracings of the scar, which made Albus jump.

"It tickles, doesn't it?" said Gellert, full of glee.

It should have been a deep and meaningful discussion, or at least an explanation of why Albus' house was off limits. But instead, he had knocked Gellert over onto the rug, trying to decide whether Gellert was more susceptible on the inside of his elbow or under his chin. But Gellert was a shade stronger, and soon it was Albus who was pinned to the ground on his back, the two of them rolling about with laughter.

"Stop that," said Gellert, once Albus had discovered that Gellert was particularly ticklish under his arms. "I have another something to tell you too."

Albus sat bolt upright. "I don't come from a powerful family like yours," said Gellert. "I'm only half-blood; my mother was a muggle."

"It means nothing to me," said Albus. "It matters not what one is born, but what one grows up to be."



"You said that it was in caring for your sister that you lost your mother," said Gellert, in a low voice. "I lost my mother to the ocean. One day, she was walking along the coast, and a great wave came and swept her away. Drowned her. If only my father had been there, he would have saved her without a word."

So _that_ was why he had such a protectionist attitude towards muggles. If Albus thought of how, virtually, they had completely lost Ariana forever…

Instinctively, Albus nearly knocked Gellert over again, nearly crushing him in his arms. "I'm so sorry."

**A.P.W.B.D.**

"Make no mistake," said Gellert. "I didn't assemble the two of you for my own entertainment – you're here for a reason, and a very good one at that."

Gellert had asked Albus if they could have Cari over for a day, and Albus had immediately said yes, and Cari had said yes, if she could manage to Disapparate from under the noses of her parents. So they were sitting at the very bottom of Bathilda's garden, Cari making a daisy chain, Albus with the latest copy of _Transfiguration Today_ forgotten in his lap as he watched Gellert playing with the fountain. It was a large but simple one, with five circular tiers, each poised perfectly centred above the next.

"Do you know what the first words of Cassandra Vablatsky were? _**As once more great evils in the world arise, three children shall meet under darkening skies**__,_" began Gellert, looking deep into Cari's eyes. "Are you listening, Kitten, or are you too preoccupied with grooming yourself?"

"I'm listening," she said.

(Gellert had dubbed her "Kitty", because she was "tiny and furry", with her long, thick hair that she refused to cut even in the heat of summer. When she "turned it up", piling it on top of her head, as she did now, it made her head look even smaller.)

"_**Of which two are wizards, and one a witch, one of modest means, two very rich. An orphan, an outcast and a muggle-born – those whom greatness seems odd to adorn.**_**"**

Albus came up to Gellert and sat next to him on the edge of the fountain. **"**_**One lanky, long-nosed, with a deep red mane…"**_He pinched Albus' nose. **"**_**Another whose wild locks hide a brilliant brain…"**_

Gellert stood up, and put his right leg up on the fountain, posing as McValley had once done.

"Kitty! _**The last is dark-haired, and as thin as a shadow…"**_

"I'm listening!" said Cari, even though her head was still bent over the flowers in her hands.

"_**Worthy of wielding all three deathly hallows, with wands fashioned from willow, holly and vine wood, the three work in harmony for a greater good. Uniting unicorn, dragon and phoenix all together…with hair of tail, string of heart, and one tail feather.**_**"**

He looked at Albus, his green and blue eyes inflamed. He continued to recite:

"_**Two are prefects, one is rebellious,  
A trio lion-hearted, loyal and zealous.  
Bound by hope…love…faith and absolution,  
A new age of magic rests on their resolution"**_

Albus was sorely tempted to give Gellert a little nudge with his elbow, which would send him tumbling into the fountain, and soaked from shirt to shoes. But he didn't, and Gellert rewarded him by getting down on his knees in front of him. "That poem – prophecy – which I recited – it's _real_. It's as _real_ as the Tale of the Three Brothers. Cassandra Vablatsky has already made other prophecies that have been already validated; it's only a matter of time before this is fulfilled too."

"Kitty!" He rose, walked over to the girl, pulled her to her feet. "What did you tell me your wand was made out of that first night we met – was it holly and unicorn hair?"

"Yes," she said, as Gellert led her to the fountain. Albus couldn't quite remember the topic of wands having come up in their conversation at Bathilda's Seventh-of-July party, but he put it down to the dazzled haze that that night was.

"And Albus' is phoenix and willow, and mine is dragon and vine wood…don't you see, Kitty, Albus? We're the _children of the prophecy_! We're going to be the ones who lead the world into _a new age_!"

"What's this about the Deathly Hallows?" asked Kitty.

"You know – the tale of the Three Brothers, by Beedle the Bard!" Gellert gesticulated madly.

Albus rummaged through his memories of July-the-Seventh and managed to pull something out. "Gellert believes that one of the stories from Delta's book of children's tales has a basis in fact," he explained to Cari. "That's why he's here – we talked about it when you were out in the garden." He continued, judging by her quizzical look that she needed clarification (she was muggle-born, after all). "The tale goes that there were three brothers, who met with Death, and were given three immensely powerful magical objects – an unbeatable wand, a stone that could resurrect the dead, and the best invisibility cloak – and the one who brings them back together will be the Master of Death."

Gellert was impatient. "I will prove to you," he said, "that they really exist. Come with me."

He lifted Cari onto his back, which made her squeal with delight, and took Albus by the hand.

"Like Aeneas, Anchises and Ascanius," said Cari, "We walk out of the ruins of our old world, and into a new one, which just happens to be…the graveyard?"

Gellert set Cari down. "Over here," he said, rubbing the moss off a weathered gravestone. "Ignotus Peverell," he read.

"_Ignotus_ means _unknown_, doesn't it?" Cari asked.

"It does," said Albus.

"But what I think should interest you more is the surname – _Peverell_. You see, many believe, including I, that the Peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus, were the three brothers of Beedle's tale!"

The three of them crouched over the ancient monument, and Gellert traced his favourite symbol, this time over an etching in the stone. "The wand," he said, indicating a vertical line. "The stone," he made a circle. "And the cloak," he finished off with a triangle.

"Three hallows," Albus breathed. "Three children."

"That's right," said Gellert. "And together, they, _we_, will save and rule the world, with justice and strength. All we have to do is unite the Hallows, which have been scattered by time across the world, and we will be invincible, Masters – and Mistress – of Death. We will be known as the Triumvirate that worked – everyone 

knows that to succeed, people have to work together. All I ask is that you come with me…when I'm seventeen and the Trace on me disappears…to fulfil your destinies."

"Of course," said Cari and Albus at the same time.

Gellert got up and kissed Cari, and then Albus, on the forehead. He lingered for a moment, his face too close for comfort to Albus', and then he straightened up. "Come on, we've got work to do!"

* * *

_**A/N: Kasey Chambers – Not Pretty Enough For The Reviewers**_

_Am I not pretty enough?  
My English too broken?  
Does Albus cry too much?  
Is Gellert too outspoken?  
Don't I make you laugh?  
Should I try it harder?  
Why do you read…but not review me?_

**Thank you very much to Dr Shanty, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, deeps85 and Anomalous Anonymous for reviewing my last piece! **

**This chapter is pivotal to the plot, so I hope you managed to get into it. I also hope that it's continued the process of tying up loose ends. It's all reveal!reveal!reveal! from here. You already know the characters inside-out (except possibly Gellert, but if you've read my other stories, you know what he's like). **

**My final hopes (I promise!) are…that I've managed to get right the delicate balance between desecrating canon and being a canon-parasite…that I've made the dialogue believable, that you don't mind my formatting…**

**This chapter was long...because I won't be updating any of my stories for awhile. Sorry! Happy Thursday, my loves.**


	21. Chapter 20: Albus: Lumos

Chapter 20: Lumos, by Albus

_You've heard the news about Harvey Ridgebit's best friend, Artemis Scamander, and how McValley has expelled him, despite showing the Slytherins greater clemency. And so, now you are waiting Harvey in the broom cupboard, because you know he will come to you as you did to him only a few months before, searching for someone who will listen. You're that grateful for that kind Hufflepuffian ear and compassionate heart. _

_Indeed, you're more than grateful to him. Whispered words, fingertips on shoulders, lopsided smiles – they tell you more than a library could about your connection with this Hufflepuff Chaser. All it takes these days is a brief exchange – "tonight?" "third floor?" "after meeting?" – for you to know what he's thinking. And sometimes he can read your mind so well it's as if you've split your soul – though that's impossible._

_And as a bonus, Harvey Ridgebit has a little of a "tall, dark and handsome" air to him, which takes your breath away when he opens the cupboard door and enters._

_Your wand falls to the floor of the cupboard with a clatter. "I'll get it," says Harvey, always eager to help. _

"_No –" you say, already going down on your knees. _

_As you have planned it, your foreheads collide. _

"_Sorry!" says Harvey._

_He's about to add more, but that's when you decide to ambush him. You have the advantage, as your eyes are accustomed to the dark, and can see all too well exactly where your lips are headed. _

_Except…_

_Time doesn't stop. _

_Even though virtually every book you've read has alluded to it._

_There are no fireworks that go off._

_In spite of the fact that this is common Gryffindor boys' dormitory knowledge._

_Then reality strikes you – he won't reciprocate. He never did, and he never will._

_But it's __impossible__! You're Albus Dumbledore; you could always smell a wrong answer from a __mile__ away. _

"_Er…sorry," you mumble._

_Harvey doesn't answer; everything has suddenly fallen into place for him. He always had this kind of intelligence that Hogwarts could not measure. "Animal intelligence," you've heard people refer to it jokingly, since he seems so fascinated by creatures._

_You are chiding yourself for your lack of intelligence. Firstly, for forgetting that Harvey is muggle-born, coming from a world where men are thrown into jail for showing affection for other men (as Cari pointed out to you in fourth year, when Oscar Wilde was incriminated). Secondly, for being "too rash, too unadvised, too sudden", completely out of your normal nature. And lastly, for taking advantage of someone in a vulnerable situation._

"_Lumos," he says. He looks into your eyes so intensely that it hurts, because you know what it means. Those woody, brown eyes are saying, "__I know – and you know – so let's not speak of this again."_

**A.P.W.B.D.**

How about, "_non tuum speculum, sed desiderata animae demonstro…_?" asked Cathy.

"Why Latin?" asked Gellert. "It's a dead language. No – the way of the future is…"

"But still, you wouldn't want to give the game away too quickly," said Albus.

"Then we'll just have to write 'I show not your reflection but your heart's desire' backwards!" said Gellert." Is that convoluted enough for your labyrinthine mind?"

"The Mirror of Erised?" said Albus carefully. "It could work."

"What are you talking about? It _will_ work! And once we have built it, once we have the Hallows, guess what we will do!"

"What?" asked Cari.

"We are going to _rebuild_ society. Restructure it. We are all witnesses to the great conflict between magical and non-magical people," he said darkly, knowing Albus was thinking of Ariana. "And we all know that the more you attempt to suppress something, the more it will fight back against you!"

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it," said Cari. "You know, Oscar Wilde."

"I know," said Gellert. He raised his eyebrows and winked at her. When he did that, one could almost pretend that his eyes were normal.

"You weren't joking," said Albus, when he could finally get a word out. "About the New Age Empire. All those plans – you weren't joking at all, were you?"

"I always tell the truth," Gellert said. "I know you hardly dared to believe me, both of you, because you think I'm younger than you are. But age is no matter, I tell you. What matters is that we are the three whom Fate has chosen to bring Wizards and Witches out of suppression, to take their rightful places in society. I think it is time."

Cari clapped her hands. It was easy to believe that she was the youngest of the trio, as well as being as thin and dark as a shadow.

"But for now, the hour is late," said Gellert. "I know I must not keep Kitty-Kat any longer, for her mama and papa will have discovered her secret. At least come back next Friday – for my birthday, won't you?"

"I – can't," said Cari crankily. "Maybe Thursday; we're going into London and I might be able to escape for a few hours. But Friday's my presentation day."

"Your _what_?"

"Coming out. Being presented. Inane muggle tradition to show coming of age. Have to meet the Queen."

"See, Kitty, once you _are_ Queen, you'll ensure that none of these trite muggle traditions exist! We'll celebrate the seventh day of the seventh month every year, and our birthdays will be public holidays."

She cocked her head. "Whatever you say, Teddy," she said before Disapparating.

**A.P.W.B.D.**

The day after Cari had visited, Albus had gone around to the Bagshot backyard and found the tree vacant. So he charmed a stick and rapped on the window.

"Bathilda's gone out," said Gellert, picking up a book and opening the window in reply. "We have the house to ourselves at last." He climbed outside and settled on the nearest branch. The gentle breeze rippled through his luxurious hair and Albus thought of angels.

"The magic of music…" Albus read, as he slid onto the branch next to Gellert, who had shifted so that he now rested his back against the rough tree trunk.

"Yes, I thought it might interest you."As you probably know, the Phoenix song is believed to strike courage into the hearts of the pure, and transfix with terror the impure."

"My Patronus is a Phoenix," he said.

"Really? Mine is a Griffin, and Kitty's is a Pegasus. So between us, barring dragons, we have all the great mythical winged animals covered."

"How do you know about Kitty's Patronus?"

"Oh – don't you remember? She was having a marvellous time playing with it the other day. She loves horses so much, that little girl…"

"I always fancied a phoenix," said Albus, both trying to steer the conversation into more pleasant waters, and thinking about Elphias for the first time in days, and realising he had neglected to write back.

"Ever fancied anything else?" asked Gellert.

"I wish I had my grand piano back," he replied. "We had to sell it to pay for…" he didn't finish, but he thought Gellert could read his mind and know that he was referring to his mother's funeral.

Gellert put his hand on Albus'. It was warm, and slightly damp, for the morning was already shaping up to be a heatwave. "When we're rich and powerful," he said, "I promise the first thing I'll buy you is a nine-foot Steinway piano."

"But where will we put it?" asked Albus.

"In our castle, of course! We shall have our own castle. You went to Hogwarts, you must understand the charm of a great big dirty castle."

"What, a castle just for the two of us?"

"Why not? We will have servants though, find out wherever Kit the Kat fills her house from…muggles do seem to have the right ideas sometimes…" Gellert turned the page and changed the subject. "And there of course is the Augurey."

"Or the 'Irish Phoenix'," said Albus, looking at the picture of the highly mournful-looking bird with scrawny, greenish-black plumage. "The one that forecasts the weather…"

"Wouldn't be much fun to keep in England, would it? I imagine it would howl constantly, particularly during your miserable wet winters. The Irish have a funny sense of humour. I much prefer your English sense of humour," he said, patting Albus on the arm, making something warm and tingling shoot up it.

"But you know one thing about Augureys, their feathers have inherent Impervious charms, perhaps that might make them useful…but then nobody ever researched it, because it wasn't that long ago that people thought Augureys foretold death…and Uric the Oddball found out that they didn't…" Albus moved closer to Gellert, so that his chin was nearly resting on his shoulder.

"Uric the Oddball discovered something else, didn't he? Or tried to anyway, with Fwoopers. African birds that they use to make brightly coloured quills."

"Yes, their song is supposed to be enjoyable to listen to for a while, but drives the listener to eventual insanity." Gellert swung his legs playfully in the air and whistled.

"Sounds like an awful lot of things in life, if you ask me," said Gellert, running a casual hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes." The other creatures famous for its musicality I suppose are the merpeople."

"Mermish!" said Albus, thinking of the days with Kit and Harvey by the lake. "I learnt that while at school…" he stopped, recalling Gellert's aversion to water. But the boy didn't mind.

"You must teach me," said Gellert, nudging Albus so hard that he nearly lost his balance, and had to stick a hand out against the tree trunk to steady himself. "Come on!"

Gellert had an extraordinarily quick mind and a good ear – he could repeat all of Albus' phrases with a a perfect accent. "You must let me teach you something," he said. "I know you can read runes very well; you must have a flair for languages. What will it be – German? French? I know you already have Latin. Let's go with French. You should choose French, French is such a romantic language." Albus nearly fell out of the tree when he heard this, but then Gellert qualified, "You know, one of the _Romance_ languages, derived from the Roman language…You know, French, Italian, Spanish, Romanian, they're all Romance languages because they're derived from Latin… "

Albus noticed his hand was still gripping for dear life onto the tree trunk, his arm just brushing Gellert's shoulder. "And there was me, thinking it was almost a Freudian slip," he muttered to himself.

But Gellert was too close; he had heard it. "Come again?" he said, leaning his face right up far too close to Albus', demanding explanation.

"Sigmund Freud. Freudian Slip…oh never mind…"

Gellert flipped the page nonchalantly again, and said, "I love music."

"Me too," said Albus.

"Ever read 'Twelfth Night'?"

"Of course," said Albus, thinking _if music be the food of love, play on?_

But the words never came out of his mouth; instead, their lips crashed together, knocking Albus' glasses askew.

There was the sound of breaking porcelain down below, which stunned the two boys, since there was no way one small pair of spectacles could make such a noise. They looked into the backyard beneath them, and a lead weight dropped into Albus' stomach. It was none other than the old Head of Gryffindor.

"Reparo," said Professor Binns."So sorry – boys – Albus – sorry – didn't mean to – just rang the bell, wanted to return Bathilda's plate – you know – house is so big I thought I'd come round to the back just to check………"

Binns backed off until he thought he was somewhat out of sight, then scarpered.

"Now we can see that he can run away, at least we know we probably haven't given him a stroke," said Gellert cheerily, stroking Albus' cheek.

Albus exploded. "Good Merlin! I don't think I've ever seen him run that fast – not even when Delta threw Elphias' History of Magic textbook into the common room fireplace!" He slipped a hand under Gellert's ear, tilted his head and they gently kissed again.

"You kiss by th' book," said Gellert, tapping his nose. "You've done this before. Which sweet creature has had the blessing of your blushing lips?"

Albus coloured a little. "It was a mistake, that one."

"Well, is it not from mistakes that we learn the best? That is, providing they are not fatal ones."

"It was in fifth-year. And – and my father had just passed away – and there was this boy – in fifth year too – who was offering sympathy and I thought it was more than that – it was a complete mistake – it only happened once," said Albus. "He's married – engaged now – to a girl he met at school." He looked at Gellert in a way both pleading and expectant.

"Alas, I too have made a mistake," said Gellert. "Only, I chose someone older, and so my mistake was correspondingly huger. It was my Potions teacher."

Albus remembered Tugwood, who had been nearly every boy's fantasy, and he laughed.

**A.P.W.B.D.**

The next time Gellert showed up on his doorstep, he greeted him with a particularly deep kiss during which Albus tasted a tantalizing hint of bitter dark chocolate.

"As much as I love your wandering hands," said Gellert, "Can we dispense with the formality of the front door? Next time I'll save time and Apparate straight into your room."

"Of course," agreed Albus breathlessly, his hand in the small of Gellert's back. But then he caught a whiff of goat musk coming up from behind him and hastily broke away.

Aberforth cleared his throat. "Ah-hem. For your information, Albus, Ariana is raging, and there is no food in the house."

Guilt washed over Albus in nauseating waves. Apart from leaving three nutritious meals out on the kitchen table a day, and checking on Ariana at night, he hadn't spared a thought for his brother and sister.

Gellert whisked out his wand. "Problem solved," he said.

"For your information, Mister Superior," spat Aberforth, "Food is one of the five exceptions to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration." He shot a filthy look at Albus. "I _do_ read my textbooks."

"I know that, Aberforth," said Gellert. "I merely moved some of the food from your neighbour Bathilda's larder into to yours."

"That's stealing."

"It is _not_ stealing. Rather, it is redistribution, equalisation. Don't tell me you're so uncultured you've never heard of Robin Hood. Stealing from the rich is not really stealing, providing you give it to the poor. Any action can be justified by its ends, its _consequences_. It's called consequentialism. The most famous form …"

"Is called Utilitarianism," Albus filled (rather unhelpfully).

Aberforth, though younger than Gellert, was of nearly the same height and build, and thus had no qualms about punching his brother and his friend, before turning on his heel and leaving them in shock.

"I told you," said Albus.

"It's all right," said Gellert. "At Durmstrang…well let's just say, I've had _much_ worse. Where were we yesterday before we got so wonderfully distracted? Music…producing an altered state of mind. Could be very useful to us to know how to go about that. We should try it."

_Mind control_, Albus thought. _Isn't it dark magic? But no – anything can be justified by its consequences – of course it's all right… _

"I think we've neglected Ariana for far too long," said Gellert. "It's better to be dead than to be neglected. Will you take me to her room?" Albus flinched. "No, Albus, I insist."

Albus led him down the corridor, and opened the door. "I must warn you, when she's raging she tends to…"

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" screamed Ariana, raising her arms. But as soon as Gellert burst into song, she sat still on her bed, as if turned to stone.

"_And did those feet in ancient time walk upon England's mountains green?"_

But though she was still, she wasn't silent. She began to babble, as usual. "I tried to tell them, mama, I can't show you magic, I said…"

"_And was the holy Lamb of God on England's pleasant pastures seen?"_

"But then they wouldn't stop, they wouldn't, and I couldn't help it…"

"_And did the countenance divine…"_

"And he cries out, it's a real witch! A real witch! On Halloween when they all come out!"

"…_shine forth upon our clouded hills?"_

"He says, 'do you know what else we do with witches?'"

"_And was Jerusalem builded here among these dark Satanic Mills?"_

"But I'm not a witch! They wouldn't stop, mama, they wouldn't…they carried me to the duck-pond…"

"_Bring me my bow of burning gold!"_

"No! No! Please! I don't know how to swim! I'm not a witch, I won't float!"

"_Bring me my arrows of desire!"_

"Make it stop! Make it stop! Oh, please, please, no…not that, not that, not that cold, cold water, there are eels in there, I'll do anything!"

"_Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold!"_

"So cold, so cold, almost like falling asleep…"

"_Bring me my chariot of fire!"_

"Mama, it's my fault, it's my fault, my dress is all torn, they tore it off me when they threw me in the pond, will you fix my dress?"

"_I will not cease from mental fight,"_

"Daddy, why are you crying, why didn't they cry too? They weren't crying, three boys. They were hardly wet at all. But I feel like I'll never be warm or dry again."

"_Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand," _

"Oh mama, mama, oh mama…I'm not a witch, I tried to tell them…"

"_Till we have built Jerusalem in England's green and pleasant Land."_

"Oh mama…ohmamaohmamaohmamaohmotherohmotherohmother…"

By the time Gellert had stopped singing, Ariana's screams had been reduced to a soft muttering that sounded almost like praying. He had moved closer and closer to her as he serenaded her, and mesmerized all the occupants of the room. He wasn't afraid to rock her gently back and forth as she sobbed quietly.

"Blake," said Albus, still mesmerized. "You put Blake to music."

"You like Blake?" asked Gellert.

"I love him," said Albus. "_Tyger, tyger, burning bright, in the forests of the night…_"

"_What immortal hand or eye dare frame thy fearful symmetry?_"

**A.P.W.B.D.**

"It's a wonderful thing, knowing yourself," said Gellert, as Thursday came, with Kit and her helpful hands, and they could at last look into the finished Mirror.

"But Freud said that we know other people better than we know ourselves," said Albus. "For example, we are denied objectivity towards our strengths and weaknesses."

"Then," said Gellert, "I wonder, what would be possible, if only you could know yourself as well as others do."

The three of them peered into their masterpiece, and there was a minute of silence.

Gellert was the first to break it. "So, what will each of us have? I think I will take the Wand, for I can see…I can see my path leading me to my grandfather's country. It's in Switzerland."

"I'll take the Stone." Albus thought fast (and was nicely surprised by his impromptu ingenuity). "I can use it to bring my parents back. It means we don't have to constantly sing to Ariana. It means Aberforth will be happy to go to school again; I'm sure they would have wanted him to, and if they were back, they could tell him…"

In reality, he was seeing something quite different in the Mirror, something he wasn't comfortable telling Gellert, let alone Kit, about.

"That leaves me with the cloak," said Kit. "It's perfect; it'll replace my old one! And this one will never fade, and I'll be jinx-proof too."

"It's perfect," Gellert repeated. "Do you know why the triangle is the strongest shape in architecture? Because it is held up by three sides. Like our New Empire."

Outside the window of Bathilda's library, night had begun to fall. "I'd best be getting back," Kit said, blowing a childish little kiss at the two boys, and Disapparating.

"I think she missed," said Albus, eager for another excuse to shove Gellert up against a bookcase and kiss him until his mouth felt bruised.

**A.P.W.B.D.**

"Happy Birthday, Gellert," said Albus, knocking on Gellert's window having climbed the tree reaching out to his room.

"But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Gellert threw open the window and held out a hand to pull him in. "About time too, it's as dark as sin outside."

"It was Ariana," Albus said honestly. She'd decided to have one of her rages and make it snow throughout the house. The first time he tried Vanishing it, it multiplied tenfold, so that everything became truly buried, including one of Aberforth's goats. (What in Merlin's name was it doing inside?)

"I believe you," said Gellert, once Albus had explained. "You have snow in your hair. You poor thing, I'll wager you're still chilled to the bone."

Gellert swept his wand through the air and a bottle of Firewhisky fell into his outstretched hand.

"To birthdays, now and yet to come," said Gellert, draining his glass, as Albus followed suit. Only he found that it burned his throat, and winced from the pain.

"Have another," said Gellert. "What you have to do is drink, and keep drinking until you can't feel it anymore."

"Did you have a good day?" asked Albus. "Did your Aunt do anything? Bake a cake?"

"Aunt Bathilda? I didn't tell her. What she doesn't know won't hurt her…as long as she thinks I'm still underage, she'll think I'm a sweet little boy. I'm not, I assure you."

"Happy Birthday, Gellert," said Albus, handing him a box.

"What is it? Is it a jewellery box? Is it…" He tapped it, and it opened up into the glorious fountain, with its rugged edges and depressions scooped out by memories. Gellert set it down to admire it.

"I don't know where it came from, but someone gave it to me not too long ago – when I had turned seventeen – and – well he just disappeared, they think he was killed – and I feel – he would have wanted me to pass it on…"

Gellert nudged him and put a full glass back into his hand. "Were the same age now."

"But we've always been equals, you and I," said Albus, drinking again. "No matter what."

"So how does it work?"

"Memories."

Gellert put the tip of his wand to his head, and extracted a silvery thread.

"A waltz," said Albus.

They whirled around the room until the song ended, and Albus showed Gellert how to change the song. He put on Tchaikovsky next, of all things.

"I'm feeling a little…dizzy," said Albus. "Probably because of all the spinning." He sat down on the nearest thing, which happened to be Gellert's bed.

"Me too," said Gellert. And he sat on top of him, straddling him. "And I feel feverish too." He started to unbutton his shirt.

Albus helped him get it off – no – tore it off.

"Tu bandes," said Gellert.

"Tu _what_?"

"It means _this_." Gellert put his hand on him, and he nearly jumped. "Still want those French lessons?"

**A.P.W.B.D.**

He was in a bed that was not his own, wrapped in nothing but a very thin sheet. Gellert was next to him, leaning on his elbow, thumb against his lower lip, his brows furrowed. Flashes of last night came back to him, new experiences of clammy skin, fumbling fingers and near unconsciousness.

"Last night…probably shouldn't happen again," said Albus solemnly. His head felt as if it had been hacked open.

"No, no, Albus, it's not that, said Gellert, rising and dressing himself with a tap of his wand. "It's just…I thought I saw…never mind…" He came back and sat on the bed next to Albus, still wrapped in his sheets, and put the half-moon glasses back on his friend's nose.

"Bathilda…Ariana…Aberforth…" said Albus, thinking aloud of the worst.

"_Bathilda_ couldn't hear us. She's rather hard-of-hearing, and besides, my door is permanently silenced, locked and barred against Apparition. You're welcome to grunt, moan and bellow my name all you want. I must say, I rather like it."

But the spell was broken. For now, Albus had been roughly bumped back into reality. His bruises ached, and the rays of sunlight streaming through the window were burning his eyes.

* * *

_**A/N: Kylie Minogue (Queen of Campness) – I Should Be So Lucky, I Should Have More Reviews**_

_In my imagination, there is no hesitation  
Reading and reviewing go hand-in-hand…I'm dreaming…  
You love this long story, and you'll leave a review  
But dreaming's all I do…If only they'd come true  
I should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky  
I should have a stack of reviews_

_**Er, so here is some dodgy smut! I think it's quite appropriate, considering the libido-charged age of these two (age of consent is 16 in Australia). And oh, how I've missed writing Gellert/Albus. It was also such marvellous fun to write last November; it came really quickly (no pun intended). **_

_**This was probably due to the variety of references here. Williams Blake and Shakespeare, one of my favourite childhood movies, "Anastasia", very gay classical composers, and even "Sophie's Choice", a marvellous book which taught me about human nature, and how to say dirty things in French.**_

_**I would like to dedicate this chapter to WTF, whom I know is on holidays, as well as Dr Shanty, SaintRidley, Anomalous Anonymous, sunny88 and deeps85 who all reviewed the last chapter! **_

_**I'll see you all roundabout July the 3rd when my plane gets back from HK! Lots of love, stellah8chang.**_


	22. Chapter 21: Albus: Reparo

_**A/N: This starts off as a happy chapter, because everyone deserves a chance to be loved, and to love in return. Here I ought to express my love for nighteyes00, SaintRidley, Dr. Shanty and WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot who reviewed the last chapter and have been so patiently waiting for this one. Oh, and to Enid Blyton...if you get the reference, you rock.  
**_

* * *

Chapter 21: Reparo, by Albus

_You're standing alone on Platform 9 ¾, because your younger siblings, Aberforth and Ariana, cannot be left alone in Godric's Hollow. Moreover, your mother is still very reluctant to show her face in public._

"_You're clever enough to find your own way, aren't you, Albus?" she asks. "Ms Bagshot can see you safely to London, and after that it's a matter of getting through the barrier at King's Cross."_

_What kind of answer could you possibly give to her apart from a smile, a nod, and the words, "Of course"? She has suffered enough in the past year._

_You're about to drag your trunk onboard the school train when you notice an older boy approaching._

"_Let me help you with that."_

_He introduces himself as Ewan Macnair, the fifth-year Slytherin prefect. "Prefects have their own train compartments," he says, "but my housemates will take care of you."_

_The idea that a gang of Slytherins are taking you under their wings is vaguely disconcerting, but you've been so starved of contact with wizards your own age that you suppress these feelings along with all the selfish wishes of your inner eleven-year-old (that, and each of them is at least a head taller than you). _

_Eridanus Prince, Gilbert Gamp, Herbert Burke and Norbert Flint are not what you envisoned as schoolfriends, but they certainly are livelier than your usual companions of ink and parchment. Books cannot tell you that the Head of Gryffindor (and History of Magic teacher) is a useless, dour-faced dim-wit, nor that the Bloody Baron is the only ghost to whom Peeves, the poltergeist, shows any respect._

_Eridanus wipes his large nose on his sleeve. "So what do you think of the Mudbloods in the compartment next door?"_

"_I – I beg your pardon?"_

"_Dirty-blooded wizards. Muggle-borns, those who soil the name of 'wizard'. Merlin, and there I was thinking you were bright for your age." _

_You aren't familiar with slang. It is an unfortunate side effect when your companions are not quite your contemporaries._

"_I – don't mind them?" Looking at the dangerous glints in their eyes, you are not about to admit that your mother was muggle-born. _

"_Come on, what's said in here stays in here," says one of the boys. "We know about your family – we've heard about your father's views on muggles – how he hates them – how he used the Cruciatus curse on three muggle boys."_

"_But…" you want to explain that your father really isn't a muggle-hater at all; he only attacked those three boys in a fit of rage after they nearly killed his daughter. "I personally don't have much of a problem with muggles…" you begin._

"_You mean you don't entirely believe in magical superiority?"_

_You start to shake your head, then decide to nod, then think better about it, and go back to slowly shaking "no". _

"_You're less of a wizard than I thought you were, Albus Dumbledore," says Herbert Burke. "Get out of this compartment."_

_Willingly you get up, take your trunk and leave. You've started dragging it down the corridor of the train when you hear Norbert Flint grunt, "Just one more thing…"_

_You whirl around._

_BAM!_

_Flint punches you. _

_You see stars._

_You also hear the sound of cartilage being crushed and bones being broken, and a voice that calls out, "What's this?" _

_You're rammed to the ground._

"_Oh, nothing, sir," mumbles Flint. "First-year tripped up, that's all."_

"_Well then," says the velvety voice, "I will see to his nose, which the _floor_ has smashed, to his lip, which the _floor_ has gashed, and to his glasses, which the _floor_ apparently has bashed into the shape of a fist."_

_The Slytherins scarper. "In here," the voice adds, and you finally get a look at its owner as he ushers you into an empty compartment. His hair is closely cropped, his cheekbones high and strong, his lower lip disproportionately larger than the upper, and his eyes long and narrow. Judging by his age – fifty? – he must be one of the teachers patrolling the train._

_He sits you down and pulls the mangled spectacles off your nose. "Now remember this, because I won't be there to fix your nose next time someone breaks it," he says. "Holosteo."_

_You experience the most unpleasant sensation of the things under your skin rearranging themselves. With a second wave of his wand, all the blood is gone. _

_You reach for your glasses and say, "Reparo," not wanting to sound ignorant. _

_To break the awkward silence, you say, "I don't really need glasses; I can get by without." _Really_, you're thinking, _he knows me already; it's the first day and Albus Dumbledore is already infamous at Hogwarts_._

"_Forgive my rudeness," says the man, as if reading your mind. "I'm Professor McValley – Literature and Lexicology teacher." _

_A teacher of magical theory? What propitious timing…_

"_Why doesn't 'Reparo' work on bones?" you ask._

"_Not everything can be mended that easily," McValley sighs._

**A.P.W.B.D.**



But Gellert…_Gellert_ was swift to make amends, such as when he Apparated under Albus' desk while he was trying to compose a letter to Elphias, who had been bursting with news:

_Phineas and Athena (Attwood-Plath) are engaged! Only, since Phineas is a Slytherin, and Athena a Ravenclaw, it's meant he was nearly disowned when his parents found out... _

The letter had been drenched in ink when his ink bottle had flooded everywhere, and he had crushed his eagle-feather quill in half. But there would always be time for laundering later…

They made more plans. Aberforth must be safely packed off to school before the three of them could depart. Kit volunteered her own invisibility cloak for the purpose of hiding Ariana, until they could find the Real Cloak and hide her more permanently. Kit even volunteered to look after her while they were travelling ("You boys look after each other, and we girls will do the same.")

He felt slightly concerned about Kit's ability to care for his sister, but Gellert assured him that she knew – after all, she had a brother who was a doctor ("When did she tell you that?" "Yesterday – don't you remember?"), and most of the time she was docile, and if she wasn't, all they had to do was sing her to sleep. ("Look at what we can do to her, Albus – imagine if we magnified that? – Wwe could control whole armies, whole countries of people") Albus was just glad that she might be someone else's responsibility for once. The one-month anniversary of Kendra's death reminded him harshly of the consequences of looking after Ariana.

"We've got each other," said Gellert. "It's the way it's meant to be. They brought us together…"

Before long it was Albus' turn to have a birthday. He'd all but forgotten about how much Kit loved to give things away, until he received the oddest package by owl; a photograph of the two boys, and a sketch of all three of them.

_I'm sorry I couldn't get today off – I'm officially incarcerated – but a very happy 18th birthday to you! The picture is of what today should have been like. And the photograph I took last Saturday of you and Teddy! Hope you like them. XX Cari._

They – "Dory", "Cari" and "Teddy" – sounded like the names of little children to Albus, belonging to a lost world. "Lost" in a good way. In the sense that you had to lose something in order to gain something. ("If one door closes, another always opens.") The voice of McValley seemed further away than ever, beginning to slip into the dark recesses of his memory. But who was he to complain? If McValley hadn't cut him off when he had, he would never have been as receptive to Gellert, and he would never have had as much in common with the German boy if Kendra hadn't…

Of course there was a reason for everything.

If none of this had happened, then his eighteenth birthday could never have been so perfect. They Apparated to London, wandered down Knockturn Alley, where Gellert was most interested in "Medea's Sociology Bookshop" (otherwise known as the MedSoc Bookshop), and finished it off with ice-cream.

"All you have to do is go up to the man over there, and ask for whatever flavour and topping you fancy," said Albus, as Gellert put two sickles on the counter.

"_Any_ flavour?"

"_Any_."

"I'd like a Sardine ice-cream, please," said Gellert, and no sooner had he uttered his request than the man at the counter had scooped him up an ice-cream with a silvery, slimy tail sticking out of it.

"Um – er – vanilla please," said Albus.

They walked back into the sunshine. "Are you _really _going to eat that?" Albus asked in disbelief.

"Of course not," said Gellert, tossing it into a bin. "I just wanted to see how far I could push him. Can I have some of yours?"

"Of course," said Albus.

"I'll make you a cake tonight," he said. "I would have made you dinner too, but Bathilda…"

They went for the ice-cream at the same time, and as the thick liquid gushed down the back of his throat, he thought, _this__ is what it should've been._

**A.P.W.B.D.**

Apart from Gellert and Kit, no one else had remembered his birthday. Well, to give them credit, a belated note was probably on its way from Elphias, Delta had stopped writing letters when she had stopped receiving them, Ariana was convinced it was still 1891, and Aberforth was Aberforth. He had very little to look forward to that night. Until a clattering in the kitchen told him that a welcome intruder had arrived. "Go away, Albus," said a voice the first time he opened the kitchen door. "Don't you like surprises?"

Albus gave him half an hour, then came back again.

"In my haste, I unfortunately appear to have burnt it," said Gellert, tipping something black and shapeless out of a cake tin, then thinking better and Vanishing it with his wand. "There's plenty of icing though. And I know you have a sweet tooth."

"It doesn't matter, it's the thought that counts," said Albus. "What did you have in mind?"

"Rainbow icing," said Gellert.

"You can't possibly be serious, can you?"

"What! It's a perfectly respectable flavour of ice cream, rainbow!" Gellert waved his wand and a mixing-bowl floated over to Albus. "Besides, I couldn't decide…"

Albus peered inside and indeed, there was a batch of icing, a slightly sickly-looking mixture of pale pink, yellow, purple and green. He lifted the spoon and tasted it. It simply tasted like _sugar_. Perhaps vanilla?

"What is it with brilliant people being completely unable to complete menial tasks? Kitty can't curtsey, I can't cook, and I suppose _you_ can't knit?"

"Mm," said Albus, not bothering to correct him. He had a better idea for using up the copious amounts of icing. He spooned up a bit and flicked it at Gellert.

"Hey!" Gellert flew at him to grab the bowl and ended up with icing all over his pants. "What's this for?" Earlier, they had been discussing the significance of reward and punishment systems in controlling both muggle and wizarding masses.

"It's in fact a reward – for today. Up onto the bench-top with you," he said, half-lifting Gellert up there.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as Albus licked a bit of icing off his skin. It felt incredibly good to be taking the initiative for once. "Returning a favour."

**A.P.W.B.D.**

After one very productive afternoon in Bathilda's back-garden with Kitty, as much as Albus dreaded it, he knew he would have to go into his own backyard, the domain of Aberforth and the goats, which had become his friends once he had lost Ariana.

"What are you doing here?" Aberforth stood up, folding his arms. It was rather unfair, thought Albus, for the number of times his brother had invaded his own sanctuary and caught him unawares.

"Aberforth – I need your book list, we have to go into Diagon Alley today and pick up your schoolthings. There's three weeks until…"

"I'm not going," said Aberforth.

"Well then, you don't have to go with me, I can get your books alone," he said, thinking of taking Gellert down into London with him again.

"I mean, I don't need books. I'm not going back to school."

He tried the calm, reasoned approach. "Aberforth? You have OWLs this year, and it is vital that you understand their importance."

"Why do I need OWLs? I just want to stay at home, and look after Ariana, like mother did."

"Well I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Mother got her NEWTs and it still didn't save her!

"_Mother_ always stressed the importance of a good education to us. If you really loved her you would go back to Hogwarts for at least one more year!" shouted Albus, knowing he had touched a raw spot. Aberforth had never been as deep in his mother's counsel as Albus had been.

"Why do you care?" asked Aberforth. "You don't care about _me_ any more than you care about _her_, you just want me out of the way so you can go poncing off with _those two_ in the 'direction of the setting sun'."

"That's 'direction of the rising sun,'" Albus corrected, unable to help himself. "But what does it matter to you whether we go east or west? We'll be back in Godric's Hollow this time next year, once you've got your OWLs, and if you want, I suppose, then, you can come with us."

"You mean it?" Aberforth's voice was quieter now, and his expression softened his normally rugged features – the matted hair pulled coarsely back, the nose blunter than Albus', and the narrow eyes.

"I do," said Albus.

Albus thought that a year would be more than sufficient time for them to obtain the Hallows. With that, his parents would be back, Ariana would be safe and sound in Godric's Hollow, and Aberforth would have no wish to go gallivanting around Europe, their Empire, with two strangers who looked down upon him.

"In fact, I promise," Albus finished. Taking a leaf out of Gellert's book, he gave Aberforth a smile that promptly made him melt.

"I'm sorry I forgot your birthday," said Aberforth.

Albus, still smiling, patted him on the head, and walked away, feeling euphoric.

**A.P.W.B.D.**

The plans had been laid in place – it was only a matter of days before Aberforth would be safely packed away on the Hogwarts Express, and Ariana safely stowed into a magical trunk. As was the usual pattern of things, Gellert had come up with the idea, Cathy had drawn up the plans, and Albus had made it incarnate.

The trunk was the pinnacle of their accomplishments that summer. It was made of ebony wood, polished so well that it reflected the three people crouched around it. There were seven keyholes in a row along its front, each with a slightly different metallic sheen. Gellert tested each of the locks in turn, and when he came to the last one, it revealed a deep underground cell, about ten feet deep, and wide enough at the base to fit furniture into.

"Of course, the seventh compartment is for Ariana," said Gellert, shutting the trunk once more. "That leaves two each. That means we won't need to carry anything else."

Albus felt slightly uneasy at the idea of sharing a trunk with Cathy, even if they were given different compartments, and by the look in Cathy's eyes, Gellert could figure she felt the same.

"All right then, we can put the books into this one…"

They also had bags bewitched with the same Undetectable Extension Charms, maps filched from Bathilda's library ("Well – she stole them in the first place – and stealing from thieves is not really stealing"), ingredients and pre-brewed potions, a number of magical instruments, more clothes than Albus personally approved of ("I hardly think we'll be portrait-sitting!" "Well, Cathy has corsets and stockings and petticoats and hats and parasols and handkerchiefs and gloves…why can't I have my dress robes?") and of course, a tent and some food.

"It's our seven-week anniversary," said Gellert, once dusk had begun to settle, and Cathy had departed. "Goodness, how time flies when you're having fun. Whatever are we to do?"

_We could climb into bed and make love till kingdom come,_ thought Albus.

"I know you're thinking," laughed Gellert, winking, "But how about one last trip to the graveyard?"

"How come?" asked Albus.

"We both owe it our gratitude; it was what brought us together in the first place." He bit his pouty lower lip. "Why else would I have chosen my father's widowed sister Bathilda? It wasn't just because she was the least likely to fulfil my father's wishes of 'straightening me out'. Remember the three brothers? It is said that one married the daughter of Godric Gryffindor himself, which is why he, and then I, came to Godric's Hollow…"

They entered the graveyard, empty and deserted but for the lifeless stones.

"It's like we're the only two people left on this earth," said Albus, holding Gellert's hand.

"We'll live forever," said Gellert. "Long after we're gone, the people of our world, of our creation, will sing of our prophecy, of our people, and of our deeds. We are the emperors now, and we are the czars. And in time, and in time, we will all…"

"Be stars?" Albus finished for him. "There's a surprise. I thought you'd be thinking more along the lines of Marvell.

"_Now let us sport us while we may;  
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,  
Rather at once our time devour,  
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power._"

Gellert cast a sphere of Disillusionment around them. "You know, in ancient times, children would be conceived over the graves of great warriors."

"_Thus, though we cannot make our sun  
Stand still, yet we will make him run._"

Albus twisted Gellert's hair around his finger as they moved together under the red and gold sky.

**A.P.W.B.D.**

"There's a good girl," said Gellert, gently levitating the sleeping Ariana into her new home on the eve of their departure.

Right then, Aberforth barged in. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

Gellert had the presence of mind not to drop Ariana at once. "Hush, Aberforth! What do you think we're doing? We're taking her with us."

"What?"

"Can we take this outside?" Gellert asked calmly. "I'd prefer not to wake her." Gellert set the example, marching out the door, Aberforth hot on his heels and Albus last of all.

Albus stumbled. "But Aberforth – I thought you were all right with –"

"I, like you, was so _enamoured_ with your grand plans that I forgot to ask what was to become of our sister."

"It's simple," said Gellert. "She's one of our travelling companions. Like Cathy Carlton, whom I am sure you are familiar with."

"Is _Cathy_ going to be shut up inside a trunk?"

"She's travelling in first class, you know! There's a bed and an armchair and…"

Albus tried to cut in. "Please, Aberforth, it's just for a year. Please, go to sleep, you've got a big day tomorrow, going back to Hogwarts…"

"A year? But why will these matters change when you take on a fifth companion?"

"A _fifth_ companion?" asked Gellert in disbelief. "Surely you don't mean what I think you mean – you think you will be accompanying _us_?"

"Albus promised," said Aberforth.

"I – I – I…" Albus stammered as he saw Gellert's furious face. "I only meant…that we'd have the Resurrection Stone by then, and mother and father would be back here, and they could care for Ariana…" The lie didn't seem so simple anymore.

"NO – SPELL – CAN – REAWAKEN – THE – DEAD – " roared Aberforth.

"What would you know, you stupid boy?" sneered Gellert icily.

" – YOU IDIOT!" the boy finished.

Aberforth was the first to strike, kicking Gellert in the crotch.

"AAARRGH! You – filthy – little – boy – fighting – like – a _muggle_!" shrieked Gellert. He said nothing, but flicked his wand, so that Aberforth was writhing on the floor.

Albus stared in horror. "What have you done?"

"This is what happens to muggles who strike wizards," said Gellert.

And Albus knew exactly what curse he had used.

* * *


	23. Chapter 22: Albus: Crucio

Chapter 22: Crucio, by Albus

"_Where's Ariana?"_

_These are the only words running through your head. _

"_Have you seen Ariana?" your father runs up and down the pavement, knocking on neighbours' doors, approaching strangers on the street. _

_You can taste the panic in the air, the dry, metallic feeling in your mouth that makes it difficult to swallow._

"_She was in the backyard a minute ago –"_

_Halloween ought to be a happy holiday. But the lanterns remain unlit, the bats are flapping angrily in their cage and a pumpkin pie grows cold on the kitchen bench-top._

_Spiderlegs crawl down your spine. You turn to Aberforth and notice his teeth are chattering. "Go inside boys, go to bed before you catch cold," you hear your mother shouting from far away. She never shouts; she is always calm. _

_You take your brother by the hand and go inside, but you stop at the top of the stairs. Neither of you feel like sleeping; you take a few blankets and make a little camp overlooking the foyer._

_Suddenly, the front door is kicked open, and in comes your mother, wand raised high, and your father. He carries a dripping bundle in his arms, and it is only when the lights in the room come on that you recognise the mass of blonde hair and realise that it is Ariana._

_You cannot help it – the two of you scamper downstairs. Mother and father appear to have forgotten their earlier command._

_You put your ear to her chest, while Aberforth wails, "She's dead! She's drowned!" _

_He's only seven, but he knows – it's true – she isn't breathing. _

_Mother is uttering incantations so rapidly you cannot separate them. As she waves her wand over Ariana's heart, your sister strains a rattly breath. _

_Your father deposits Ariana in your mother's arms and spins on his heel. "She'll never be the same again…she was out too long…they're going to pay, those muggles that did that to her," he mutters. "Muggles who dared to strike down a witch…"_

_He is out the door again._

_You follow him._

_You chase him down the streets of Mould-on-the-Wold, down to the park, down to the duck-pond, where a couple of boys have been – what is it called again? – Petrified. Your father lifts the enchantment, but they have barely regained consciousness when you hear your father's voice louder and more livid than you have ever heard it before._

"_CRUCIO!" _

_Your mother has caught up with you; she claps her hand over your eyes and grabs your arm as she Disapparates. _

**A.P.W.B.D.**

Now Aberforth was up, shaking off the torture curse, and not ready to surrender.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

The flaw in the plan was that Gellert's wand had already cut through the air. Albus grabbed his wand hand. "I don't want…Don't make me…"

But Aberforth was down on the floor. Gellert continued to make grotesque movements with his wrist.

"Don't you see – _Gellert_ – this is what got you expelled from Durmstrang?" begged Albus, trying to reason with him.

"But if I had not been expelled, we would never have met," shouted Gellert, above Aberforth's cries.

"Just make it stop, make it stop, please…" he took Gellert's hand in his, but Gellert trapped his wrist in a locked position.

"Come on, Albus, you know what's the right thing to do."

"No…" Albus groaned. "I don't want to… I don't want to… Let me go…" Albus caught sight of Aberforth in agony again. "Make it stop, make it stop," he shook Gellert's arm.

Aberforth flung his arm out desperately during the brief respite. "_OBNUBILUS_!"

Smoky clouds poured out of Albus' brother's wand. Gellert replied by multiplying and thickening them with his own variation on the _Gemino_ curse. "Well, then, come on, you know what to do. Come, duel me for your brother then. We've never had a proper duel, you and I; our duels always ended in such inappropriately amorous ways. I think it's high time we did…"

Gellert took a few steps back away from him, fading into the thickening smoke.

Albus shouted back. "No, no, no, no, I can't, I can't, don't make me, I don't want to…" He sank to his knees, shaking uncontrollably, as his brother's screams pierced him like shattered glass. "It's all my fault, all my fault," he felt the tears welling up behind his eyes. "Please make it stop."

"But Albus, isn't this what you wanted? At times you wished they were dead so you would never have to care for _them_ again, so that you could run off with me into the sunset?" said a disembodied voice.

"I don't remember…oh, I know I did wrong, oh please make it stop and I'll never, never again…!"

And then he realised, as he lifted his head. _Them_. Not _him_, but _them_.

There were _three_ ghostly silhouettes in the room with him. Ariana must have somehow gotten herself out of the trunk, and had wandered out of her room, entranced by the bright lights and violent noises.

"Don't hurt them, don't hurt _them_, please, please, it's my fault, hurt me instead…" He leapt to his feet. "Please, please, please, no… not that, not that, I'll do anything…"

"_STUPEFY_!"

A Stunning spell shot out, narrowly missing him. Then there was a jet of noxious purple light.

"No more, please, no more…" he whimpered.

"I want to die! I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!" screamed Aberforth.

"Are you a wizard, or not, Albus?" bellowed Gellert, lifting the curse for a moment.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Aberforth replied. _"Impedimenta!"_

Gellert then dispensed with the non-verbal spells and began to fire off curses at random.

"_Hydramnios! Implasmodium! Confringo! Streptopyogenes!"_

"_Reducto!"_

"_Oblivate!"_

"_Protego!"_Albus shot shield charms into the fray, but all were useless against Gellert's level of magic, even when uttered out loud.

"Show me your best, Albus! Show me something new...something original…something of your _own_ design! Here! Let me show you something I've been working on!" There was a cracking noise as a whiplike flame slashed through the air. "_Flammatae Flagellum_, there's elegance for you…"

Albus shut his eyes and something from the depths of his subconscious bubbled up. _Make it all right again…make everything right again…make it all right…__Iustitia__. _He flung his wand through the air. The force of the charm, a blast of white light, was such that it rippled through his hair, and let off a deep, reverberating note, like a gong, nearly drowning out the voices of Albus' brother and Gellert.

"Now _that's_ more like it! _Ignictus_! _Encephalophagus!_" The words Gellert uttered were next to meaningless; he was essentially blasting out magical energy at random.

"_Deprimo_! _Expulso_!"

Tracing out a flame in the shape of a bird, Albus directed it to where he judged the short, stocky figure of Gellert was standing, and thought, "_Oppugno!_" He could hear both boys' voices growing hoarse; he could barely distinguish one from the other.

"_Flipendo! Rictusempra! Densaugeo!"_

Three jets of light shot through the smoke, representing the three basic curses. It appeared that Gellert had stopped duelling altogether altogether. Albus lowered his wand.

"_Furnunculus!"_

"_Confundus!" _

Gradually, due to the _Iustitia _charm, the smoke began to dissipate. Now that he could see clearly, Albus realised that Gellert had disappeared from the scene altogether. And then, even more to his horror, Albus caught sight of Aberforth, looking down at the ground at Ariana's lifeless form, lying there as if she was sleeping.

* * *

_**A/N: **__If you are from med school you should recognise most of Gellert's "curses". As I now have strep throat, it was all I could do to laugh at my own condition. (Woe is me – I can't even cheer myself up by breaking randomly into song…)_

**_Elvis vs JXL – A Little Less Conversation, A Little More Reviewing?  
_**

**_A little less conversation, a little more reviewing please__  
All this ignore-ing ain't satisfaction-ing me__  
A little more write and a little less snark  
A little less spite and a little more remark  
Just review and open up your heart and baby satisfy me_**

_Wishing everyone a very merry Deathly Hallows Anniversary, but especially **WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot**, who has very kindly beta-ed this and the previous chapter, as well as SaintRidley, sunny88, The Grey Detective7 and Dr. Shanty who left reviews! And **nighteyes00** who left a message for me on my livejournal! _


	24. Chapter 23: Cathy: I'm a Cheshire Kitten

**_A/N: Warning! Warning! : Cathy is the dreamiest dreamer to ever appear in Dreamland. She digresses to second-person flashbacks at the beginning, end and sometimes even in the middle of her chapters. This will cause problems of varying degrees of amusingness and confusion. Also, if you didn't hate Gellert by the end of the last chapter, you will now.  
_**

_**Special thanks to WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot who very kindly beta-read all of Cathy's chapters for me! As well as**_**_ Dr.Shanty, SaintRidley, Anomalous Anonymous and nighteyes00_** _**for their lovely messages at the end of the last chapter!**_

* * *

Chapter 23: I'm a Cheshire Kitten, by Cathy

_You are by the window, looking at the grounds where Charlie, your fourteen-year-old brother, and his friends play cricket, when one of the maids, Lucille, flings open the doors to your room and flies at you. _

"_Miss Cathy, where are you? Someone is here to see you!"_

_But no-one ever wants to see you! _

_You never blame anyone for talking to the wall above and behind you instead of to your face. It is one of the hazards of being four foot five, and falling below the natural line of sight of most people. And falling out of the natural definition of prettiness, which has made you shy, and spectacularly good at the art of concealment. You can curl up into drawers and trunks and onto the undersides of tables. Lucille concludes that your house is preposterously large and easy to get lost in. _

_On the way downstairs, Lucille combs your hair with her fingers, wrapping it with ribbons, and fusses over the pleats of your skirt. It must be one of your parents' friends, you assume with a sigh. If only she could as easily fix your cheeks, nose and chin, the red, raw eyesores that you scratch at absent-mindedly. Lucille slaps your hand. "Are you a girl or a monkey?" _

_You catch a glimpse of "someone" through the banisters. He wears a very strangely-cut suit of black, and even though it is summer, a matching cloak flows from his shoulders. His hair is greyer and shorter than your father's. He is tall – but then, at your age, eleven, and your height, anyone may be accorded that honour. At a glance he is Jane Eyre's "black pillar" of Brocklehurst, except when you reach the foot of the stairs, he accosts you and stoops to shake your hand and talk to you. _

"_Excellent," he says in a deep voice, "I have a most important matter which I must discuss with Miss Cathy."_

"_And what might that be?" _

_You hear your parents before you see them; they come through the other door. The sweep of your mother's gown, and your father's voice: "Pardon me for interrupting, but I am Miss Carlton's father, and I would like to know of this matter." _

_The foreigner to Greylakes House – your home, which you have nicknamed "Le Château dans le Ciel", because "grey lake"sounds so cheerless – answers. "Better and better."_

"_Lucille, take Cathy upstairs," says your father. _

"_That won't be necessary," says the stranger. _

_Your father is not accustomed to defiance. You know the icy glare and heed its warning, as he says firmly, "You will discuss it with us first, and Catherine can be sent for again later."_

_Lucille pushes you out the door and you hear your mother ask the stranger to take a seat. You return to your room obediently, not being one who cries out loud in angst or anger. You prefer to bottle your tears and pour them into your pictures or poetry. You like to sit in the shadows and bury the body you loathe in a large sketchbook by drawing yourself as you wish you look. _

_You are thus so absorbed, that you do not even notice his appearance beside you, in the window seat. As he slides towards you, he closes the curtains behind the two of you. _

"_My name is Professor Archelaus Dorian McValley," says the same rich voice. _

"_Professor?" There are Professors in many of the stories you have read. One of Louisa May Alcott's design springs to mind._

"_I gather you were not eavesdropping on the conversation I had with your parents."_

"_No,_"

"_You should have tried it!" he says, nudging you. _

_Being unable to figure out what game he is playing at, you are too frightened to look at him. He laughs and throws one of your pigtails behind your back. _

"_There is nothing wrong with a bit of courage," he says. "Be brave, be bold!" He pats you on the head. "Blue silk ribbons tied into bows, how very sweet, how very bright and appropriate for spring and summer. But, darling, you should wear your hair out more often. Because I know these things."_

_Shocked, you turn to him sharply, and he maddeningly closes his eyes and taps his nose with a long finger. How do you deal with one like this?_

"_I know all sorts of things," says he. "I know that blue is your favourite colour, that you would not be tall for the world, that when you get that faraway look in your eyes you are _

_drifting between past, present and future as if they all exist at once…and I know that you are a very special girl."_

_He sighs. "Have you ever wondered why you're so good at disappearing out of sight?"_

"_I'm small," you say._

"_That's more like it!" he strokes your cheek. "For that small show of courage I'll let you in on a secret. You're a witch."_

"_I'm a _what_?"_

"_You're a witch, Kitty."_

"_My name is Cathy," you correct him, though not harshly, as you do not want to sound rude. It just happens that "Kitty" is your brother Charlie's name for you. _

"_My mistake," McValley says. "Catherine. Lady Catherine. Named after the Catherines of Emily Bronte, or should I say, Catherine the Great of Russia? Pardon my insolence."  
_

_He cups your chin in his hand, and you shut your eyes, for is this not how young girls receive their first kiss? But no! You scold yourself for being so silly – you are only eleven years old! You are but a child in his eyes. _

"_You are a witch, Cathy. It means that you belong to a wonderful world above this one. For – beneath the uncurious noses of muggles – what we call the non-magical people – are shops, and schools, and houses, and castles, all teeming with magic. On September the first, you will step into this world, when you board the train to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He hands you a letter._

_You try to open it tidily, but your trembling hands tear it. _

"_Go on," he says, "let it rip!"_

_It's a letter – it says that you have been accepted into "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry". And there are lists of things which you will need before you board the train. "But how will I get these – a wand, a cauldron…?" _

"_There is an entrance to our world – in London – via a store called The Leaky Cauldron – and I have given your parents instructions of how to get there. Sometime in the next few weeks you will pay it a visit, and obtain all you need there."_

"_They're going to let me go to school?" Your parents have told people that they intend to raise you in the country, under the watchful eyes of Lucille and your governess, Miss Applecross. _

"_They couldn't stop you," he laughs, thoughtlessly, for it is nature, sliding out of the secret chamber he has found for you. _

_You grin from cheek to cheek. You've fallen in love with him – just because he saw you when you were invisible._

**C.I.A.R.C.**

It was an auspicious day, Cathy thought, the last seventh day of the seventh month to fall within the old century. And she thought, with a bit of bitterness, the last one she would spend as an unmarried girl. She had never hated her parents nor envied her brother as much as she did now, after school. Even before her results came back, her parents had refused to let her go on a round-the-world trip with her school-friends. ("Never! What will people think? What about chaperones? You're eighteen now, you have to _think_ of these things, Catherine! We have let you have seven years of fun and games. It's time to grow up!")

Meeting the Queen had been something to look forward to, but on the whole, Cathy reflected, _those muggles could learn a thing or two from the magical peoples_. The summer was a whirlwind calendar of parties and other engagements with girls she had barely seen since childhood. It wasn't that she didn't like dressing up, and it wasn't that she didn't enjoy the music and the dancing, but the marriage awaiting her in the near future hung like a great birdcage over her head.

She didn't know what kind of muggles at parties were the worst. There were some who thought of her as a kind of Isabel Archer, who had been plain Jane "ugly duckling" Eyre all her childhood, then blossomed into a swan, and sniggered quietly about the "new beauty" and concocting fallen fates for her. And there were others who were perfectionists, who snickered, "oh dear, too skinny, not good for bearing sons!", or "her eyes are too large for her face; she has a permanently surprised look!", or "good grief, her children will be midgets!" And there were those who shoved their sons upon her, like William Favourleigh. Cathy reminisced about the last ball, when William, a vile and toadlike boy, had stepped on her foot, and she had been very tempted, Delta Hitchens-style, to impale him with her heel.

"You can't hide forever in Bathilda's bathroom," said the mirror, she was standing in front of, making her jump. So Cathy smoothed down her white dress, unlocked the door and went out into the snake pit. Although members of the magical community made no comments about her marriageability, the way they simpered over her NEWT results, and offered her positions at the Ministry of Magic that she couldn't take.

And in the midst of this snake pit there was Dory. Dory with the deep blue eyes like an ocean you could drown in. Dory who had sat by her and rewritten her Arithmancy proofs in return for borrowing great muggle books by Homer and Virgil and Livy and Cicero and Catullus and William Shakespeare and the Brontes and Jane Austen and Victor Hugo and Thomas Hardy and Edith Wharton and Oscar Wilde and Charles Dickens from her library…

**C.I.A.R.C.**

_Instead of resigning yourself to resenting the weather for being able to celebrate summer when you can't, you haul your textbooks outside into the sunshine and encourage your studying companions to do the same. _

_On one occasion, the three of you are stretched out with your books by the lake in various positions. You are drawn to Dory, lying on his front, cupping his chin in his hands, fingers just slightly entwined with his long auburn locks, with Robbins' Atlas of Astronomy. _

_You have no idea why you are so drawn to Dory; your head tells you it is simply his pure, unadulterated ingenuity, but it doesn't explain why you want to be close to him, touching those elegant long-fingered pianist hands. He's like McValley in some ways, and completely different in others. McValley was unafraid to play along with you, to call you his "lassie", to humour you, to give you advice, to reach out and touch you, to understand that you find it easier to be brave when no one is watching you. Not like Albus Dumbledore. Except for the advice. Still, you have christened him "Dory" because that is what you called McValley in your head, when you were younger, and it only seems right to transfer the term of endearment…_

_Do you find the new Dory beautiful? He has beautiful eyes, but he has taken to hiding them behind highly unfashionable half-moon glasses. Except when you tell him to take them off, of course. _

_You are wondering what else I could get Dory to take off when you realise you've wasted a good half-minute staring at him. _

"_NO!" you remind yourself, "You only have one chance to catch an OWL or a NEWT, but there will always be plenty of fish in the sea. I'm sure he feels the same way too. Just a few more years and we'll have the best summer ever – I'll take him down to the farm, and we'll go horse riding, and then we'll lie by the creek in each other's arms and then maybe – " _

**C.I.A.R.C.**

Dory whom her brother and parents had made it clear was not for her. Well, if she was still stoically a wallflower at twenty-one, their opinions would be very different -- she logically reasoned. Better a wizard for a son-in-law than an old maid for a daughter. They had, after all, allowed her to come to Bathilda's.

"There you are!" said a voice that wasn't Dory's.

Ms Bathilda Bagshot, the Magical Historian who had invited Cathy to her seventh-of-July party, was steering towards them a young man with an abundance of golden hair. "Catherine, Albus, this is my nephew Gellert Grindelwald, who's spending this summer with me. He just arrived from the Continent…"

Cathy, who was standing next to Dory, put her hand on his high shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Dory…he's half-Veela, isn't he?"

"Dory?! What kind of a name is that?" The boy had a smooth voice coupled with a German accent.

"No, no, you misunderstand me," Cathy improvised, not wanting to embarrass Dory. "I...I meant you! I mean you're the splitting image of...Dorian Grey!"

Grindelwald apparently did not mind; he gave her a firm handshake, as well as a crumpled piece of parchment, which she instinctively crumpled up into her fist.

"You're...so right," the real Dory chipped in, trying to be helpful as always. "It's the hair, isn't it?"

She stole a glance at the parchment meanwhile. The writing was unusually tidy for a boy's.

_Go out onto the balcony now, and wait for me there. _

Cathy made a feeble excuse, and slipped away onto the balcony outside. The moon was full, and the stars, although few, were clear and bright. Cathy bemoaned the lack of ball dresses with pockets; firstly she could really have done with her sketch-book, since Bathilda's garden was the stuff of fairytales – so much wilder and more wonderful than Manderleigh's, and secondly, she had had to stow her wand in an awkward position against her whalebone corset, which made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable. The Cloak which McValley had given her in first-year would not have gone astray either.

She was startled by a guttural noise beside her. Apparently, Gellert Grindelwald had appeared next to her, out of nowhere. The boy kissed her hand. "Cathy, forgive me for my rudeness earlier, I should have asked you to dance; will you do me that honour now?" He had deserted Albus to seek her out, so she decided to give him a chance.

"So, are you from around here?" His hands were soft, dry and warm on hers.

"Yes."

"Ah! So you were born in Godric's Hollow?"

"Oh – oh no," she said. "I thought you meant, was I from England or not. I'm from Manderleigh, which is in the sunny South..."

"You don't _look_ entirely English though."

"How did you guess? I'm half-French." Cathy noticed that the collar of his shirt was half-open, revealing a smooth white chest, and a sort of necklace or chain that gleamed silver in the moonlight. She wanted to pull it out to see what was on the end of it - a family crest? a lucky trinket? an enchanted locket? a time turner? an anti-conception charm? - but she did not dare.

"Hybrids know each other," he said. His full lips were pursed into a half-pout which might have indicated he was thinking. "I'm half-blood. Wizard father, muggle mother. But I'm quite the mongrel when it comes to heritage; I'm of Austrian, Swiss, German and Hungarian descent. And I have a suspicion that you are too – perhaps some German, and a bit of Russian in you? Pointy chin, dark hair…what brought you here tonight?"

"I'm an acquaintance of Ms Bagshot's. Through school friends."

"Ah, that is because you are a school friend of Albus Dumbledore, the young man you were with when I met you?"

The pieces fell into place with a smile, and she noticed, even in the dim moonlight, that his irises were very unalike. It was as if one sapphire and one emerald had been set against the gold of his hair. She thought of Oscar Wilde's story about the benevolent statue, _The Happy Prince_, and then thought better again, as he suddenly picked her up and spun her around in the air.

She liked being carried about. Charles had always done that when she was small, which left her practically begging for it from other people behind her parents' back. Reeling a little from when Gellert set her back down on the ground, he steadied her with one hand in the small of her back, and tilted her chin up with the other.

She'd been waiting for this moment since she was twelve years old. But, as soon as his lips touched hers, to her mortification, she froze.

"First kiss?" he stroked her hair, as if petting a kitten. "Don't worry, I promise I'm a good teacher."


	25. Chapter 24: Cathy: My Destiny

Chapter 24: My Destiny, by Cathy

_Very few of the summer days, or nights, are yours to keep. This is the way it has always been._

_When you lock the door of your room, without magic, because you are underage, so that you can snatch a few hours of studying, they roll their eyes and ask you how long you expect to pursue this foolish infatuation with "magic". Your face burns; thankfully they cannot tell. You ponder the true infatuation that motivates you. _

_McValley. _

_You can never tell them what he means to you. You can never tell him of the way you secretly run to him whenever you have a spare moment – to borrow books, to ask for essay advice, or to share a cup of coffee. _

_You are careful to never mention his name, and if your mother or father brings him up in conversation, you make vague comments about him being A Good Teacher, about his unorthodox but effective techniques, about the way he may not be useful for mediocre students, but is absolutely necessary to put the finishing flair on the crème de la crème – this is why he is better than Manion, you will say later, and you respect him deeply._

_But you've moved beyond respecting him, you revere him. _

"_And so, war in Asia has broken out. I want to hear your opinions on it," he says one day._

"_I don't believe any sort of war is justified," you say. "Not even this one between China and Japan, the tensions of which really have existed for centuries."_

"_Really?"_

"_They're fighting for Korea like children over a toy."_

"_Darling, that is a vast oversimplification…" _

"_But war always ends up in the death of innocents – the civilians – hapless bystanders." You are not one who likes conflict. Ravenclaws never are. What they like best – like their aquiline mascot – is to sit on the fence in peace. _

"_True, but Cathy," he says, "You have to wonder, without this war, people were being tortured and killed nevertheless. Perhaps a price must be paid for peace to settle in once and for all."_

"_So…you believe a war can be justified by its ends?" McValley is a staunch Utilitarian. _

"_Of course…if the war leaves a stable society in its wake, think of how many innocent lives can be saved!"_

_And he goes on, until your coffee is cold and forgotten. _

**C.I.A.R.C.**

Albus and Gellert were her last links to the magical world that summer. The only people within shouting distance who didn't think her magic was a fairy-tale, to be mocked or shelved away once she was no longer a child. Indeed, her magic was a force to be reckoned with.

She wasn't a flat-chested child being forced into corsets, into an arranged marriage and into a dreary adult muggle life – she was _a child of the prophecy_. She was priceless, and Gellert assured her of it every waking moment.

"Caesar's Triumvirate fell apart because it was, literally _three men_, which left half the world unrepresented. It could not last."

The third time she ventured into Godric's Hollow that summer was because Gellert had invited her on a picnic with Albus in Bathilda's gardens, where they had become acquainted with each other. There was no need for a blanket; Bathilda's grass was soft, dry and thick, an ankle-deep carpet in itself.

Gellert nearly sat atop her favourite blue skirt, which fanned out from under her like a creature spreading its wings. He stroked her sleeve, unfashionable though it was for its lack of shape, and tugged at her hair until it fell out of its neat net.

"Why do you pin your hair up like that?" Gellert asked, untangling the net and removing her hairpins.

"I'm old," sighed Cathy, leaning her head against his shoulder. "In the muggle world, when girls become women, they let down their hems and turn up their hair. It's supposed to be symbolic."

"It doesn't mean anything," said Gellert, now toying with her loose hair. "You're only as old as the woman you're feeling."

She swatted him playfully for that innuendo. "Would you rather have me plaiting it into pigtails?"

"How does it all fit on your head?" he asked. "You have so much hair for such a little girl. What a funny, tiny and furry and dark little thing you are…more little Heathcliff than little Cathy…"

She batted him again. Gellert picked up a strawberry from the basket in front of him. "Open up Kit," he said, holding it by the stem to her mouth. She parted her lips without hesitation, and purred quietly as the sweet juice ran down her throat. She loved fruit, more than meat or vegetables, and even more than chocolate.

Although possibly not more than ice-cream.

"That does it," said Gellert. "I henceforth christen you 'Kitten' – do you like that, Kitty?"

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder in assent.

Then, framed by the five-storey fountain of perfect circles, Gellert had recited a prophecy made by the child prodigy, the Seer Vablatsky, to her and to Albus. It told of three children: a witch and two wizards, one muggle-born, one "outcast" and one orphan, one poor and two rich, with wands made from unicorn hair, dragon heartstring, phoenix tail feather, willow, vine wood and holly. One of the children had red hair and a long nose, another had curly hair, and the last had dark hair and was thin, rather like a shadow.

Gellert spoke to Cathy first, taking her hands and pulling to her feet. "Kitty! What did you tell me your wand was made of that first night we met – was it holly and unicorn hair?"

"Yes," she replied, remembering the moment when Gellert pulled it out of her, nearly tearing her corset and earning himself a slap. The boy had said something about the "Deathly Hallows", which Albus then proceeded to explain to her. The three Deathly Hallows were enchanted objects which(that?) appeared in a well-known wizarding fairytale. Instead of Cinderella, Snow White and Sleeping Beauty, wizarding children were read stories about Babbity Rabbity and the Three Brothers.

He took them to the Godric's Hollow graveyard – in fact, he carried her there – and she made a mental note to add this pose to her sketch-book. They had spent the rest of the day making plans to fulfil the prophecy and unite the Hallows. They created a piece of "psychic paper", Cathy christened it, in the hope that it would turn into a map leading them to the objects. None of three were quite sure why it failed, but Cathy proposed that it was too small, and came up with the more elegant, though less portable, idea that they could make a mirror.

"Then we'll just have to write 'I show not your reflection but your heart's desire' backwards!" said Gellert." Is that convoluted enough for your labyrinthine mind?"

"Twisted mind?" Cathy nudged him, and whispered in his ear. "Look who's talking!" She had heard Gellert rant about his dreams of A New Age, to purge the world of the Evil mentioned in the Prophecy, on the very night they had met. That was his life's purpose, he said. He only had one shot at life, and he was going to give it everything he had.

"We are going to _rebuild_ society. Restructure it. We are all witnesses to the great conflict between magical and non-magical people," he said darkly, knowing Cathy was thinking of her parents, of the brother she had lost. "And we all know that the more you attempt to suppress something, the more it will fight back against you!"

"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it," she quoted. "It's Oscar Wilde."

"I know," said Gellert. He winked at her, which made her feel fuzzy inside.

"You weren't joking," said Albus. "About the New Age Empire. All those plans – you weren't joking at all, were you?" _Poor Albus – he must not have taken Gellert seriously._

"I always tell the truth," Gellert said. "I know you hardly dared to believe me, both of you, because you think I'm younger than you are. But age is no matter, I tell you. What matters is that we are the three whom Fate has chosen to bring Wizards and Witches out of suppression, to take their rightful places in society. I think it is time."

Cathy applauded him.

"But for now, the hour is late," Gellert sighed. "I know I must not keep Kitty-Kat any longer, for her mama and papa will have discovered her secret. At least come back next Friday – for my birthday, won't you?"

"I – _can't_," Cathy growled. "Maybe Thursday. We're going into London and I might be able to escape for a few hours. But Friday's my presentation day."

"Your _what_?"

She had to explain to him. "I'm a Debutante this season, I'm 'coming out' into society and I have to be properly presented…it's an insane little muggle tradition to show you've come of age. I have to meet the Queen."

And he told her that she, Cathy Carlton, would be the Queen one day! Queen – presumably standing by her King's side.

Ecstasy bubbled up through her better than the best champagne possibly could.

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"Ca-the-rine!"

Cathy's mother flung back the star-spangled curtains, and the girl hurriedly snapped _Tenets of Transfiguration_ shut.

"I told you an hour ago that we were leaving for Lady Armitage's garden party in twenty minutes! What have you been doing with yourself?" her eyes shifted to the pile of magical books on the window-seat, spilling onto the floor.

Cathy mumbled an apology, and stood up. With a wave of her wand, the books flew under her bed, with another flick she had dressed herself in a frock which her mother had designed, and with a final vague movement, her dark tresses were safely pinned at the back of her head. Her mother's distaste was blatantly observable.

"You know I don't like that, Cathy."

"Mother, it's very simple – stuff – and – I was just trying to help!" she floundered.

"But surely you don't have to whip your – _thing_ – out for every menial task? Cathy, please," she begged. "How are you going to tell your husband that you're a –"

"Mama! It's not like I'm getting married tomorrow! And remember, how you and papa reacted when my Hogwarts letter arrived, along with Professor McValley, to explain everything? You were so happy for me!"

"My dear daughter, you were eleven years old. Remember, I was raised in the country too, and ran quite wild, before I was presented to Society."

"Hogwarts…isn't a wilderness…"

"Well then, what of the 'Forbidden Forest', as it is called, or 'Hog's Mead', or 'Loch Ness'…"

"Mama, it's not _really_ the Loch Ness Monster, it's a nickname we have for the Giant Squid, because Hogwarts is in Scotland. Besides, it's a Kelpie that live in Loch Ness, not a Giant Squid."

"Giant _Squid_? Would you just listen to yourself? This is the reservation your father and I had about you attending a school which takes its name from porcine dermatological ailments."

"Hogwarts is actually named after a flower," said Cathy. "And what's more, mother, this is the twentieth century! Not the fifteenth or sixteenth, when witches were burnt at the stake! People are _modern_, people are open to new things! Votes for women, automobiles, Wells' Time Machine, motion pictures, sky-scrapers, Einstein, Nietzche, Hardy..." She narrowly stopped herself from adding "Wilde".

"Some things, dear Cathy, do not change. People of all kinds still fear the unknown. Particularly men." She took Cathy's thin hands in her own. "One day your father and I will be gone, and your brother will have a wife of his own, and I don't want you to be alone…I 

want you to be able to have lots of babies, and see them all grow up, and die an old woman in a soft, warm bed."

"I won't be alone," said Cathy, snatching her hands away. "I'll have a –"

"A puppy? A puppy is _not_ a companion, Cathy! I know you are not mature enough to recognise the difference, but can you please, take my advice on faith? Remember when you were learning Latin verbs as a girl – all four principal parts, before knowing what to do with the fourth – _amo, amare, amavi, amatum_ – learning on faith? What happened to my girl who was seen and not heard, who listened without questioning? If only McValley had never put those ideas into your daft little head!"

"Jacquetta, darling, what is it?" her mother's hysterics had alerted her father. "I can practically hear you from the other side of the house. What is it with the smallest dogs and people having the loudest voices?"

"Clarence, I was just saying, if only that accursed McValley had never walked into our lives."

"McValley? The Headmaster?"

Cathy answered him. "Not any longer. He's dead. He went to Australia and vanished."

Her mother was crying quietly now. "See, Cathy, all the magic in the world could not save him. Despite all the wonderful things you told us he could do –"

"Yes, mother, yes, father, I hear you," said Cathy, walking over to her hat-stand and choosing something large and lacy that hid most of her face.

**C.I.A.R.C.**

_Ever since he has become the Headmaster, you haven't dared to see him. You assume he would be too busy to care to see you._

_But one day, you're walking past the swirling staircase. All your group projects are in and you're well on track for the exams. But the snow has melted, and so has the lovely ice over the lake. On a whim you take the stairs, and tap on the door._

"_Hello!" you say brightly; it's open just a crack. "Professor McValley, are you there?"_

"_Yes – is that you, Ellen?"_

"_No…guess who!" _

_He comes to the door and swings it wide open. "Cathy, darling! How on earth are you?"_

"_Busy," you shrug apologetically, looking at the floor. The wild, courageous ideas you had upon entering have evaporated._

"_It's funny though, I was just thinking of you yesterday, and here you are!"_

"_So…do you believe in premonition, then?"_

* * *

**_A/N: thought I'd take this opportunity to thank those who are following my story via Alerts: Aglaia, Anomalous Anonymous, Aspieturtles, Bellatrixie7, BonniDolle, HiddenDepths-x, Liessa Kirst, ShadowMoonDancer, Shubie, Wand of Destiny, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, deeps85, nighteyes00, sunny88 and weahhh63. _**


	26. Chapter 25: Cathy: I Do

Chapter 25: I Do, by Cathy

"_I do," he says._

_Things have changed between the two of you, you fear. You follow him into his new office; it is a perfectly circular room, with carpet charmed to mimic the sky. Stars twinkle under your toes as you stand in front of his desk, afraid to sit down uninvited._

"_Yes," he says, "I was thinking of you when I was reading some old poems of Emily Bronte's. They're charming, you know. The way nature speaks to her, particularly the 'wandering' winds."_

"_And the recurrent image of the dew," you chip in._

"_And the way she reminds us all that we are mortal, that we only have one chance at life."_

"_Very Catullus-number-five, isn't it?"_

"_Indeed. You agree with it?"_

"_More than ever." You were born and raised a Catholic. Even if Oscar Wilde has flirted with your religion in his youth, and you quite like his works, you aren't sure if you can believe in some of the things they preach. Limbo is a very good example. "I don't even know if I believe in an Afterlife anymore – and anyhow, it's not as if we're given another chance at this world. Even if there is an Afterlife, it's saying that we're given entrance to another one…" _

_He's influenced you, and he knows it. In his classes you learnt about Materialism, the idea that everything in us is composed of matter, which perishes as we do. Lucretius is an example. It contrasts with Renee Descartes' theory that we have a mortal body and an immortal soul. McValley shuts his eyes, smiles at you and begins to say, _

"_Well, there is rest there  
So fast come thy prophecy –  
The time when my sunny hair  
Shall with grass roots twined be."_

_That's not your favourite though – what you really like is the one to the North Wind, and you say it softly to yourself._

"_In summer's mellow midnight  
A cloudless moon shone through  
Our open parlour window  
And rosetrees wet with dew._

_I sat in silent musing –  
The soft wind waved my hair  
It told me Heaven was glorious  
And sleeping Earth was fair…"_

_You skip a few stanzas._

"_The Wander would not leave me  
Its kiss grew warmer still –_  
'_O come,' it sighed so sweetly_  
'_I'll win thee 'gainst thy will – _

'_Have we not been from childhood friends?  
Have I not loved thee long?  
As long as thou hast loved the night  
Whose silence wakes my song?" _

_He is absorbed in a document on his desk, and you bite your lip for being so foolishly forward. You make a feeble excuse about having to go, but he takes your hand and puts a thin newspaper into it. _

"_I thought this might interest you – and Albus – he enjoys reading the muggle papers so much, bless him. And do come and see me again, won't you Cathy? We can have coffee or something…"_

_It can hardly have been better; you shut the oak door behind you, and you promptly slip and fall down the stairs, being so enraptured by the touch of his hand. All that is left for McValley to do is call you as he once did: the "daughter of the shadows", or simply "lassie", or best of all, "my girl". _

**C.I.A.R.C.**

Gellert was quite careful to never cast any aspersions on his professionalism – whenever they were in Albus' company, he never kissed her or held her as he did when they were alone together. When she couldn't come to Godric's Hollow, he would come to her under cover of darkness.

She might be seated at her dressing-table, brushing her hair before bed, when she might find her sight snatched from her, as he clapped his hands over her eyes.

"Kit! Guess who?"

She loved his blindfolding game, and she would always reward him with a kiss, and sit on his lap, and let him brush her hair.

"Harder! Teddy! Harder!" she'd squeal playfully. He seemed to not mind the nickname, so she thought he might as well keep it. _Gellert_ sounded mean and foreign, and _serious_. Apparently it was Hungarian for "sword".

"All right," he would say. "But first you have to listen to how I think muggle-borns ought to be treated in our New Empire, and tell me what you think."

Cathy would think angrily of her own parents, and how well they understood her need to be something more than a trophy wife with a title.

"Muggle-borns ought to be removed from their muggle parents as soon as they start showing signs of magic, to be adopted by childless wizarding couples, who will raise them as their own, to give them a better chance at a life with opportunities they would not otherwise receive."

Other times, he would watch her practice her curtsey as she tried to coach herself.

_Lock left knee behind right, turn foot out, descend, look straight in front, keeping arms straight at sides, all the way to the floor, incline head at lowest point, straighten up slowly without wobbling…don't let the feathers fall into your face…good grief, the full court curtsey is more complicated than a Fidelius Charm!_

"You look like a duck laying an egg from behind," he would comment, earning himself a poke in his stomach region. This would commence a poking war, leading to Gellert attempting to cheat his way to a win by kissing her.

"There's nothing to stop _you_ from cheating," he would suggest. "Weightlessness Spell on the lot…"

"Yes," she would say, "But what happens when one of the muggles in the court picks up my train or veil…thus breaking the Statute of Secrecy?"

"Hang the Statute! You can at least put a Temporary Sticking Charm on the feathers…"

**C.I.A.R.C.**

Cathy wished she wasn't wearing a dress, as she watched Albus and Gellert duelling, or rather, wrestling, and getting grass stains all over their shirts. She drew the two boys – lying there, facing each other, Albus' wand poised under Gellert's chin and Gellert's hand sprawled on Albus' chest.

Gellert declared they had reached a stalemate, and Cathy scolded them for wasting time. "Don't we have work to do?" They had discussed construction of a mirror the night before, as they went through their nightly ritual of brushing her hair.

"What do you think you would see?" Gellert had asked. "I'd see myself forever young, and you forever beautiful," she had replied. "But we both know the only way to do that – you must exchange your soul with a portrait." "For muggles, that is…" "Of course – for witches and wizards, who are far superior, there must be other ways…" "And we could find them – together!"

But Gellert and Cathy needed Albus – with his unrivalled powers of Transfiguration – to bring the Mirror to life, and when Gellert looked into the mirror he saw something very different.

"I will take the Wand, for I can see…I can see my path leading me to my grandfather's country. It's in Switzerland."

Albus also saw a Hallow; he saw the Stone. He would use it to bring his parents back, so that Ariana and Aberforth would not be alone.

Cathy wasn't prepared to admit that she had a priority above the Hallows. "That leaves me with the cloak," she said. "It's perfect; it'll replace my old one!" She thought of McValley's first gift to her, wrapped in tissue paper, boxed and carefully shelved. It was her way of preserving him forever, even if he was now gone. "And this one will never fade," she continued. "And I'll be jinx-proof too."

"It's perfect," Gellert said, repeating her words. "Do you know why the triangle is the strongest shape in architecture? Because it is held up by three sides. Like our New Empire."

It was late, and Cathy feared her parents might have discovered her, so she blew him a kiss, and Disapparated.

**C.I.A.R.C.**

The afternoon was horribly wet.

"How wonderful, Cathy, it's raining!" said her mother. "It must be your favourite sort of weather by now, spending seven years in Scotland!"

Cathy didn't know how to tell her mother that Scotland was not always cold and wet, that the winter winds were crisp, not chilly, or that Hogwarts was not a semi-dilapidated playground.

"Good luck," she said to Cathy, as the girl, with three yards of train over her left arm, carrying a bouquet that was bigger than her, wearing two white ostrich feathers and a long veil, made her way through the groups of court officials and down the corridor to the Throne Room.

She really needed it.

"Catherine Imogen Aurelia Reinette Carlton."

Cathy winced, only slightly so as not to displace her elaborate headdress, as her name was announced, and she walked across the cream-coloured carpet, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder to check that her train had not caught on anything.

Destination…determination…deliberation…oh wait…that's Apparition.

She bent down, fearful of taking an ignominious tumble rather than making a graceful curtsey. Her hands shook, and she gripped the bouquet harder. She kissed the Queen's hand in front of her. The Queen kissed her and she straightened up. She took three swift steps to the side and repeated the bow again to the princesses near her. It was only then that she remembered to smile – and to exhale.

Where was her wand? Oh – hidden – shoved among the flowers with a rosestem tied to its tip.

At last she could retreat, backwards, in a succession of choreographed curtsies, until she reached the threshold of the doorway, where a chamberlain threw up the cumbersome train for her to catch over her arm again. The ordeal was finally over.

She just hoped to find a discreet corner, in which she could release her wand and cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself so that she could have a few moments of fresh air. But someone tapped her on the shoulder. She looked over it, frowning.

"You look divine."

It was Gellert, and he looked resplendent in black and white silk, patent leather shoes and white gloves, and his English accent was immaculate.

"So do you," said Cathy. She leaned closer, to whisper in his ear. "What are you doing here?"

"Catherine!"

Cathy pressed her lips together and her eyes widened even more. "Oh no," she seemed to say, as her mother swept over.

"I don't believe we've been introduced," she said to Cathy, who now looked as if she had been Petrified.

"Archer Holland Perkins," said Gellert calmly. "My father is Captain Archelaus Perkins."

"Is that so?" said Cathy's mother, looking impressed.

Gellert had the sense not to say he was a wizard, or even that he was a friend of Cathy's from school, as he talked with her mother, and then with the other courtiers.

"You do not foresee yourself going into the armed forces like your father?"

"Perhaps," said Gellert. "But I would rather be the chessmaster than a pawn, or even a knight."

"He's one of _your lot,_ isn't he?" said Charles, taking her by the arm. "Don't worry, _he_ seems like a nice, down-to-earth chap. Better than that first fellow you introduced to me. Albert, was it? Looked like a bit of a pansy, that one, even without the gloves and stockings…while I don't approve of this one's curls, at least he isn't sporting a seventeenth-century cut, or shoulder-length lack thereof."

Cathy nodded numbly.

It was so good to have him speaking to her again, about trivial things which brothers and sisters were supposed to talk about.

"So how _did_ you meet him? Be honest, now!"

"You don't want to know," Cathy smiled at her brother.

"Let me guess. You looked into his eyes for all of five seconds!"

"No! We…danced…and…" she nearly gave their adventures in Godric's Hollow away.

"It could be worse," sighed Charles. "At least someone's growing up."

Her eyes darted towards Gellert. He caught her gaze, grinned and lifted the vessel in his hand in her direction. "To world enough, and time."

"Andrew Marvell!" she mouthed, as he drank, his fingers light on the stately chalice, as the words rang in her head. _Had we but world enough, and time, this coyness, lady, were no crime…_

**C.I.A.R.C.**

Cathy blamed the coffee when anyone asked her, but it was something else that kept her awake for all of that night, that kept her heart pounding against the mattress, her hands twitching on the sheets, and her face scorching on her pillow as she tossed, trying to find a cool space. Secretly, she was afraid that if she let herself go, the perfection that was Gellert would be lost. Even as she screwed up her eyelids, attempting to sink herself into sleep, the image of him was burnt onto her eyelids. She arched her neck, thinking of the way he could run his fingers down the bony dips of her spine and coax unintelligible noises from the back of her throat.

The clock struck twelve, and a pair of lips brushed her forehead. She squirmed. "I was just about to go to sleep…go away Charlie…" She reached out to pull the blue-and-bronze curtains around her bed closed.

But she heard a deep, musical laugh, and dared to open her eyes. "I'm fast asleep and dreaming," she addressed the shadow cast by the moonlight.

"No, Kit, you're wide awake and dreaming," said Gellert.

"Teddy! Oh, Teddy! What would happen if the _real_ Captain Perkins and his son had shown up? Or if somebody didn't recognise you?" Failing to conceal her enthusiasm at seeing him, she picked up a satin pillow from behind her and threw it at him. He caught it, easily, before it hit him.

"Oh, how I love it when you have a bit more lion-hearted spirit in you!"

"Happy Birthday," she said as coolly as she could muster.

He tossed her pillow into the air and caught it agilely again. "Can I take this token as an invitation to jump on your bed?"

"No!" she laughed.

"Well then, what about _in_ it?" He reclined on his side, stretching out opposite her, propping himself up on his elbow upon the borrowed pillow. "I had all my bases covered, Kitty, I safely incapacitated – incarcerated – the real duo. And anyway, there are far too many courtiers for people to remember them by name. Besides, they're _muggles_! How good can their powers of recollection be under the actions of…besides, admit it, you were lonely, without anyone on your wavelength there…"

"Yesh," Cathy hissed through her teeth, as she smiled at Gellert. How could anyone remain cross with him for his antics? It was like torturing a puppy because it nipped you.

"You owe me one," he said.

"All right," she said, and she edged closer to him and kissed his mouth. "If _that's_ what you came here for…would you like a gift tonight that you'll remember forever?" She nuzzled his chest, inhaling his scent.

She couldn't have predicted his response, as usual, as he took her hand. "No, Kit, I'd like a gift from you forever that'll make me never forget tonight…"

He had come to meet her parents. He had come to get the seal of approval from her brother. And now he had Come of Age. It could only mean one thing…

"Kitty, will you…"

**C.I.A.R.C.**

_And imagining the talk when people found out you've broken the record for making an excellent match, you quite forget that Gellert isn't really Archer Holland Perkins. You imagine it will go like this:_

_He will go down on one knee to finish his question. Or maybe not, because he is Gellert Grindelwald, after all. But you can bet there will be an ostentatiously huge ring. "Kitty, will you be my queen, and let me be your king? Let's get married…" _

_You will make some comment, a feeble attempt at practicality._

"_Romeo and Juliet were younger than us. '__She__ hath not seen the change of fourteen years, let two more summers wither in their pride, ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.'"_

"_Excusez-moi, I don't think it's so much my problem, as, what on earth would your parents say? I'm sure they won't consent."_

"_I would bring you back to Germany and ask them, 'could you ever have asked for a more beautiful daughter-in-law?' Besides, you speak perfect German, they'll love you."_

"_You mean I'm half-French. They'll loathe me."_

"_Non, mademoiselle."_

"_We've known each other for all of two weeks."_

"_Romeo and Juliet did it in two hours."_

"_Yes, and they ended up tragically dead." _

"_Sebastian and Olivia were pretty damn quick."_

"_That was only because Olivia thought Sebastian was Cesario." You will thoroughly enjoy the intellectual tennis match, drag it out as much as you can, and come off as a worthy opponent. "Will you hoist sail, sir? Here lies your way."_

"_Kat and her Pet managed to go from enemies to lovers in under four acts! How long will it take to tame this Kitty-Kat?"_

"_The door is open, sir, there lies your way; you may be jogging whiles your boots are green!" _

"_O wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?" He will grasp your hands, and in one instant have his hands around your waist, you'll have yours around his neck, and he'll spin you around so that you scream for joy…_

"_Kiss me, Kate…"_

_You'll submit to him at last._

_Then he'll remind you, nudging you towards the sparkling thing in his hand. "What of my birthday present?"_

_And you will say…_

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"Yes, of course!"

"I _knew_ you'd look after Ariana for us! Kitty – you have so much potential to be a Great Healer – I know – I knew – you'll be perfectly marvellous!" said Gellert, in his unbelievably perfect voice.

Cathy rubbed a strand of her hair back and forth between her thumb and index finger as her romantic reverie - the perfect Shakesperean proposal - completely evaporated. "Did – did you enjoy yourself today – yesterday?"

"I did! Imagine what it will be like when all those people have to bow to us!"

Cathy yawned. All she wanted was for that glint in his eyes to fade, so that she could nestle under his chin and fall asleep in her "Teddy's" arms.

"I _always_ have fun, no matter where I am. But what about you? Did _you_ have fun?"

"It was rather fun, dressing up. I quite like the dress," she admitted with a guilty smile, looking at the white, beaded fabric rippling over the back of a chair. "I could wear it again. But I'll have to remove the train."

"And what will you do with that? A blanket? Curtains? I know! A piano cover!"

He was back, just the way she liked him, fooling around like that. She reached out and pulled his hair.

"Why not, it _is_ about nine feet long, after all!" He swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Sweet dreams," he said, drawing the covers up to her collarbone. "Sleep well, Kitty."

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"Of course you may take them outside, boys," said Cathy. "But don't get grass stains on them," she cautioned jokingly.

In an instant, the three of them were seated by a mountain of books, in their favourite grassy spot.

"How did you get those books? They must have cost a fortune!" Albus was awed by the volumes which Cathy had purchased.

"Easy – a few days ago, I told my parents I was going dress shopping with the Favourleigh sisters, Wilhelmina and Angelina. They virtually gave me a blank cheque. So I did a mild Memory Modification charm on Bill and Angie, taking a leaf out of Teddy's book," she noticed Gellert's eyebrows going up, and she did not elaborate. "I ducked into Gringotts and changed some Wizard Money…thank the Lord that silk, satin, velvet, ribbon and lace aren't Gamp's Five Exceptions…"

"And so," Gellert finished for her, "You ordered these, but had them sent to Godric's Hollow for fear of your mother's wrath."

"That's it, exactly," she said, picking up Rubler and Koss's Guide to Deconstructing Emotions and tossing Neo-Colonialism by Ute the Unshakable to Albus.

"And you've told them today that you're at Charlotte's piano recital."

"Her name is Danielle, but you were close," said Cathy, impressed, scanning the first chapter of _What Shall We Tell The Children_, entitled "Why Children Forgive So Easily".

"My, Gellert, I think it is _you_ who have the boundless knowledge," said Albus. "It knows none of its natural boundaries, like mind and body, world and time, and decency…"

"My poor little witch-princess, locked in a tower," said Gellert, who had _Mystical Manipulation of the Masses_ and _Why the Greek and Roman Empires Failed _balanced on his knees. "In time, it will the other way around – it will be those who resist us that will be locked up in the highest tower…"

"I thought," said Albus, "That the plan was…"

"To smite all resistance?"

"The Machiavellian Way, of course, in the name of ultimate peace."

Gellert got up, on all fours, crawled over to Albus and tweaked his nose. "Yes – but I feel that those tactics cannot persist forever; at some stage we will all have to settle down. What did Zeus and his divine companions do atop Mount Olympus? They smote all the nameless mortals beneath them who made light of them, but if one of their fellows truly offended…they chose imprisonment."

"But wasn't that just because they were _immortal_ and couldn't be smited? Smite. Smote." said Albus, struggling to find the correct verb.

"Smitten?" suggested Cathy.

"No, I speak of characters like Sisyphus and Tantalus, who truly defied them? Sisyphus, who trapped the god of Death himself, and Tantalus, who deceived Demeter? No – they were imprisoned in Tartarus, to serve as examples to those who came after them. Far more efficient."

"There are precious few of us left without spilling any more magical blood," said Albus, and Gellert nodded his agreement. The boy now slithered through the grass towards Cathy, his stunning eyes burrowing into her plain ones. "What do you think Tartarus would look like?"

So she started quoting from Virgil. "_moenia lata videt, triplici circumdata muro_. Aeneas sees wide fortifications, surrounded by a threefold wall."

"But 'moenia' can mean 'castle' too, can't it? We shall have a castle." said Gellert. "Black as the Underworld.

"A place where nothing is as it seems – a place of dreams – a place of…"

"Kitty," he said, looking up at her with his irresistible green-and-blue puppy-dog eyes. "Tartarus is a place where all the bad things in the world – bad dreams, bad creatures, bad memories – are shut up – now – don't _tell_ me what it looks like, show me."

**C.I.A.R.C.**

_Your eyes are bright red from crying. Today you have been venting your frustration with your family – the way they have your future plotted out for you. The way Charles is drifting away from you – sometimes he's kind, and it's like "the old days", but at other times he's sharply sardonic and as condescending as Hesper. You've just had a letter from him – a rare occurrence – that essentially parroted your parents, telling you, "Your behaviour regarding magic school was endearing when you were eleven, but in someone of your age, fifteen, it is most certainly not. What are you going to do when you're a grown woman, do magic tricks for your suitors?"_

_If only you could do magic at home, if only there wasn't the Statute of Secrecy, if only there wasn't the Decree for Underage Wizardry…Charlie would see that your magic is as real as he is. This is what you have been telling McValley. Because McValley listens, and is never afraid to share the secrets of his past with you._

_He was always interested in time travel because, he tells you, he has much unfinished business with his mother, and since there is no way to bring back the dead, inferi being a sorry excuse for resurrection…_

"_I dreamt a dream," he tells you. "That I found a way to go back. I was perhaps ten years old. They were walking side-by-side together. The day started sunnily – but by dusk, it was pouring. In my dream, I was running – either to catch up with them or to escape from something behind me, I don't know – and I slipped in a puddle. They turned around to look at me. My father said, 'it's a filthy street urchin, don't touch it, it's probably full of diseases' but my mother said, 'child, where are your parents? You should not be out alone in the dark, at this hour.' And I said, 'it's all right. I was looking for my mama and papa, but I guess I'm too early."_

_You burst into tears again._

"_Cari," McValley says. "I only meant to tell you; it's clichéd, but good things come to those who wait. One day, what has been until now a curse, will become the best of blessings."_

_But you're not crying just because of his heartbreaking story – you've heard worse from him – what you really want is for him to lean over his desk and reach out for you, even though he never will._

* * *

_**A/N: A HUGE thanks to WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot for looking over this chapter, and SaintRidley, Dr.Shanty and deeps85 for their continued support in the form of reviews. I would do you a little parody right now, but I have an assignment due tomorrow which still needs polish, and I've already procrastinated enough via fanfic and baking...aaarrgh...**_

* * *


	27. Chapter 26: Cathy: Angels and Demons

Chapter 26: The Angel, the Demon and Myself, by Cathy

_1896 has not been a good year. You were completely overlooked when it came to prefects, and while you soon got over the fact Hesper would look better in the school photographs, the justification your mind uncovered was far worse. You realised you couldn't blame McValley, since towards the end of fourth year your feelings for him started to show. For heaven's sake, you were __dreaming__ about him! It is only natural that he wants to distance himself from you so that you can quietly cure yourself. _

_You are forced, however, to go to the headmaster's office to deliver some devastating news. However, the lilting melody streaming out of McValley's chamber makes you halt just outside and dry your furious tears away before going in and announcing. "My parents are not letting me come back to do my NEWTs," you tell him. "They want me to leave Hogwarts at the end of this year."_

_Inside the room, you can clearly hear the words of the Christmas Carol which McValley is listening to. _

"_The angel Gabriel from heaven came,_

_His wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame,_

_All hail, said he, thou lowly maiden Mary!_

_Most highly favoured Lady, Gloria!"_

_But you think 'tis certainly not the season for loving – you have never hated your parents more than you do now – for celebrating – what is there to celebrate? – or even the season for worship – because evidently, Jesus hates you. McValley stops the music with a wave of his wand._

"_I tried to negotiate," you say, after he has expressed his sentiments. "I said I would happily go away if they would let me spend this last Christmas here at Hogwarts – but of course, Christmas is __family time__."_

"_Family time," repeats McValley softly, and you sense you have struck a discord._

_You mutter an apology and spin on your heel, but he stretches forward and puts his hand on your shoulder. _

"_I left home when I was sixteen, that's all," he says. "When I couldn't take it anymore, I moved out. I had a stepmother who, unfortunately followed the stereotype, and did not love me, and my father…I could never blame him, but looking at me always reminded him of my mother, and as a result he could hardly stand the sight of me." You know very well that this is the reason why McValley now can rarely bring himself to look at people; he has been taught from the cradle that he is to avoid their gaze. _

"_And then, God sent me an angel," McValley mumbles. "A guardian angel. My true soul-mate."_

_You look up at the portrait of McValley's mother, dressed up as an angel, and in your head you conjure up and image of McValley's Other. You see skin so fair it is nearly transparent, without a freckle or blemish in sight, and eyes of deep blue, and…_

"_Hair like the setting sun," McValley thinks aloud._

"_She must have been beautiful," you say, referring to the Other Angel._

"_Who? My mother? Yes – she was," he says, assuming you have not been eavesdropping. Your comment snaps him back to the present. "A lot can change between now and next September. Your parents are just concerned…about other things…perhaps, may I hazard a guess, your brother?"_

_Your jaw doesn't drop, but your eyes widen._

"_I imagine it must be difficult sometimes, having a muggle for a brother."_

"_Sometimes," you say._

"_You're on such different…wavelengths…you must find it hard to agree on things."_

" _Yes," you bite your tongue guiltily._

"_Which is why – it's no mystery – you look for older brothers in Albus and Harvey." _

_Is nothing safe from him? You want to know if McValley has any siblings._

"_I am all the daughters of my father's house, and all the brothers too…which I sometimes think is a very good thing…"_

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"Catherine Imogen Aurelia Reinette Carlton!"

Cathy squirmed under her blanket at the sound of the ominous wake-up call.

"It is noon," said her mother. "What time did you sleep last night?"

Cathy grabbed the still-lit wand lying next to her, and extinguished it. "I don't know – maybe three? It was still dark outside."

"It is unacceptable," said Lady Carlton, slapping Cathy's hand, and snatching up her wand by the handle. Immediately she dropped it, as if she had been burnt, as a number of sparks shot out the other end. "Don't you _dare_ do that! Playing lowly tricks like that on your parents!"

"But I'm not doing anything!" pleaded Cathy, picking her precious rod of holly off the floor. Her mother reached out for expectantly, and Cathy sighed, while still thinking very violent thoughts, and handed it over.

"You will have this back in three days' time."

_I need to learn more about wandless magic_, thought Cathy, for the umpteenth time. She decided not to answer out loud. Instead, she rose and began to dress.

"I know what you're thinking – all those nice girls are staying out till all sorts of hours! But let me tell you, young lady, that you would never find Wilhelmina, or Angelina, or Danielle, or Clarissa reading _books like these until the early hours of the morning!_" she waved Delta's battered copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard _and Bathilda's copy of _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy _in her daughter's face.

"Er – I'm not pregnant," said Cathy, assuming she was thinking the worst.

"Catherine! Where do you get these absolutely preposterous ideas from? Your amount of logic is inversely proportional to Charles'…"

Cathy pretended to be preoccupied with putting on her shoes.

"And how long will you continue to defy us by decorating your room in this preposterous manner?" Lady Carlton asked, tugging at the curtains in Ravenclaw colours as if she wanted to tear them from their rods. "I knew it was a bad idea, sending you to that dark and dingy boarding school!"

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"You were lucky at Hogwarts to get a proper castle," said Gellert. "We had a sorry excuse for an abandoned palace. I supposed it made savings on the muggle-repelling charms, since they would be so repulsed by the mould and mud that they'd run a mile."

"Hogwarts has its mildew and dirt floors, you know," said Albus.

"Well, I don't understand it," said Gellert. "The old feudal lords would have been too house-proud to allow them to become decrepit."

"But I think it's so romantic," said Cathy, "You know, old castles, with secret passageways to get the women and children out during a siege, underground crypts, furniture obliterated by dust, wild weather, wind whirling wildly through…"

"Ever read Austen's _Northanger Abbey_, Cathy?" asked Albus. "It has an interesting take on the Gothic."

"Yes, I have, and I did not like it at all," she replied coldly. She suspected that her inability to sneak out on the occasion of Albus' birthday the previous week had created some hard feelings between them.

"Anyway!" interrupted Gellert, the mediator. "When we're Hallow-Hunting on the Continent, I think we should stay in castles, and I think we should restore them to give our Wizarding Empire a great history. So we can go up to those who oppose us and say, 'Look! We're just taking back what was always rightfully ours, as the most advanced race in the universe, and this grand, well-preserved castle proves it!'"

Cathy wasn't sure if people were going to buy into their story, but both Gellert and Albus insisted that it was essential. ("Try reading _Mystical Manipulation_ for yourself!") So she not only drew him "Nurmengard", the prison for wizards, but plans for restoring several of the castles on the Continent which had fallen into disrepair.

"See, there's phase one of our grand re-education scheme for all wizardkind. And then…we have to move on to the schools…allow free reign to the brightest, those who will become our apprentices. Imagine that, the sorcerers' apprentices."

Cathy pulled a face.

"And sorceress' apprentices, of course," Gellert corrected himself.

"But I thought the Hallows would make us immortal; why do we need to indoctrinate a generation to continue our work?" Cathy wondered aloud.

"Just in case, of course" said Albus. He gave Gellert an appeasing smile, a slightly haughty look that did not suit him. "Nevertheless, from what I've read, you're not so much Immortal as Invulnerable. Perhaps Invincible is a better word, since the only known thing that prevents death from old age is the Elixir of Life. You have a wand that cannot be beaten…"

"…and you have an army that cannot be killed because they are already dead," Gellert chimed in. "I suppose if you _really_ wanted Elixir of Life – what the Philosopher's Stone makes – we could attempt to contact the last creator of the Stone, Nicholas Flamel."

Cathy was thinking how he was a celebrity, how there was not much hope of that, and then, with a groan, remembered Albus' contributions to _The Practical Potioneer_.

"Already done that," said Albus. "He says he created it in a moment of serendipity. He himself isn't sure what happened – and he isn't just saying that because he's afraid of the consequences of replica stones. Besides, he suspects it had something to do with the lining-up of the Black moons Cassiopeia and Lycoris, which won't happen for another three hundred years."

Gellert opened his mouth, as if to say something, but quickly shut it. When he did speak, his words were mellifluous. "Well, fellow Children of the Prophecy, when would it please you to start _packing_ for our grand tour of European Castles?"

**C.I.A.R.C.**

It finally hit her that they were going to Europe, and then it hit her that she'd promised Gellert that she was going to _look after Ariana_. She wasn't going to be the one exploring, finding hallows and restoring castles, because Albus' sister was as volatile as oil. She could not be left alone anywhere, with the exception of a locked room, and even then, a loud noise or a spark could set her off. She decided to stay away from the two boys and their grand plans for a few days in August.

But they found her, when she was sitting at her desk, trying unsuccessfully to write a poem about being hurt and neglected.

"What are you doing here?"

"Kitty, you sound like a broken record. You couldn't come to us, so we came to you!"

Albus was quietly wandering around Cathy's room. "It's huge," he muttered, under his breath.

"You haven't been here before?" asked Gellert.

"Yes, but not to this particular room," said Cathy, getting up from her desk and putting away her note-books with a flick.

"Why would you want to leave a place like this?" asked Albus. "So much space – you could do –"

"Cartwheels in here," said Cathy. "And backflips."

"Yes, it's like a suite in here!" said Gellert, picking up a porcelain vase and looking underneath it. "You've really got an eye for decorations. What was your inspiration?"

"I was in Ravenclaw at school," she said. "I re-modelled my room on our House common room. Albus was in Gryffindor."

Albus had now pulled back the curtains of the biggest window, the one with the velvet seat built into it. "So this is your den – why you never spent Christmas at school."

Gellert joined him, gazing at the lake, with the little island in the centre of it. "I suppose that's where your house got its name. Greylakes."

"How did you know it was named that?" asked Albus, as Gellert restlessly paced back to the middle of the room.

"It's on her trunk," said Gellert, mocking Albus' inferior powers of observation and examining the things under Cathy's bed. "It's so clean, and neat…not like yours," he smiled and winked at the other boy, which seemed to placate him.

"I can't stand this place," said Cathy.

"Why?" asked Gellert, before Albus could open his mouth.

"It's grey, and cold, and dark, and stuffy."

Albus, still clutching the navy-blue curtains, looked unimpressed by her choice of words. When the sunlight hit him in that way, Cathy thought Albus' hair turned the colour of the Devil's. "Wouldn't your parents disown you if you left? Like…if you came with us?"

At last, she couldn't help it, she blurted out the question that had been on her mind for days. "Do you not want me to come?" she asked desperately, her head jerking, and her eyes darting between the two boys on opposite sides of the room. "Don't you want…need…me around…to help?"

"Kitty, you're vital – you're the third child who binds us all together!"

Albus' lips moved, forming words that looked suspiciously like "damn" and "the" and "prophecy".

"That's why you want me to look after Ariana, isn't it?"

"Is that all that's bothering you?"

He kicked Cathy's trunk out from under the bed and into plain sight. "You won't have to watch her constantly – I'll make sure of that." He took a step towards her, and took her hands into his.

She realised – she'd missed him. Of course, parting made the heart grow fonder! She could positively smell the sweat under his collar.

"I'll make sure of that," he repeated. She was barely listening.

"What have you got in mind?" asked Albus.

"A cage," said Gellert.

**C.I.A.R.C.**

_He has music playing again. This time it's something really extraordinary; it starts with some simple piano chords, with an unusually deep, dark woman's voice, and husky man's voice. There are some strings, and then some instruments you have never heard before._

"_Is it written in the stars?_

_Are we paying for some crime?_

_Is that all that we are good for,_

_Just a stretch of mortal time?"_

_McValley has a new portrait in his office; that of a very small girl, who clasps in her palms a crystal orb. Underneath the frame, in gold lettering, are the words "Cassandra Vablatsky (1894 – present)" _

_Cassandra looks at you with her baby-blue eyes. Really, she is a baby herself – she could be no older than three, you guess. But as she opens her mouth, she speaks with a much more mature voice, and the panel next to her begins to swirl. As she speaks, words begin to form on the framed sheet of parchment. It's a poem! Unfortunately, it's in German. You were never very good at German; the Romance languages were your strengths. You rack your brains. "Drei Kinder". Something about three children. _

_An awful row is being made in one of the rooms behind; in a few leaps and bounds, you are at the door, peeking through the crack. You see a flash of gold, and you giggle, before bouncing back to the German poem. So it's true about Tugwood! You touch your cheeks as you grin, and they are completely smooth – Tugwood has cured you. You're grateful enough to her not to have any pangs of jealousy. After all, it means that McValley's quite open towards cross-generational relationships – and you aren't that much younger than her! _

_You turn back towards the poem again, and attempt to make out more phrases. Something about a witch? Something about a shadow? You're not sure; it's too elaborate for your rudimentary knowledge. _

_The door you were standing at a few moments ago swings open, and McValley comes out, looking more dangerously irate than you have ever seen him before. "Kitty! I don't have time – I am not a machine…or a bin for you to dispose of all your problems – I can't have you constantly bursting in here like this just because you refuse to grow up!"_

_You try to cry, biting your lip, pinching the inside of your elbow and inhaling sharply, because that's your usual response to things like this. But you're just too shocked, and so it won't work._

_Damn Tugwood. You're starting to rethink taking Potions for NEWTs._

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"Catherine Imogen Aurelia Reinette?

Cathy looked at her brother as impassively as she could, but then a little voice in her head said, "Charles Clarence Dimitri Radcliffe?"

"Where do you think you're going, or should I say, _where have you been_?"

Cathy began to conjure plans in her mind that would get her out of this debacle intact.

"Don't give me those innocent puppy eyes," he said. "I know you've been out using magic; there is torrential rain outside, and you're dry as a bone."

"I was with Albus." said Cathy. That had been the truth, and she was quite sure that Charles had liked Albus from day one. After all, when she and Delta had wanted a venue for a surprise birthday party for Albus, he'd agreed to let them use part of the house.

"All on your own?"

She started to nod, and then seeing his unchanging expression, with raised eyebrows, began to shake her head.

There was a very pregnant pause.

"I thought you liked Albus," said Cathy.

"I did – before he started leading you astray."

"And throwing a party behind our parents' backs isn't going astray?"

"You were a child, Cathy, things have changed."

"In _one year_?"

"I was hoping that if I indulged you one time, you'd never _pester_ me ever again," he hissed. "It was mother and father's idea – to get the wilderness out of your system."

_Like the girls at Attica, at the Brauron temple of Artemis, who were prepared to be good wives by given licence to run naked through the woods, pretending to be she-bears, _thought Cathy.

She took a deep breath. "So – they knew about all of this?"

"Of course. _There are more things in heaven and earth…than are dreamt of in your philosophy._ There are greater forces at work than those of magic, Catherine."

She wondered how much else her parents knew.

"Well, aren't you going to tell me where I got that quote from?"

"_There is nothing good or bad, thinking makes it so_," Cathy spat back at him, gripping her wand so hard her knuckles went white. She turned on the spot and Disapparated.

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"_I thought…" a chill goes down your spine; you're thinking something along the lines of "I thought you knew that I'm in love with you." _

_But instead, you say, "I thought you might like your book back." You hold out the book which he lent you; an Edith Wharton classic. "I'm sorry I…I thought you wouldn't forgive me for…" _

_It could be all manner of things – for bursting in on him, for being so horrid to Hesper that everyone knows about your vendetta, for pouring your heart out to him, or something as little as holding onto his book for this long…but thankfully, he spares you the task of finishing the sentence._

"_Oh – no – I'd forgive you for anything," said McValley. "Like you, I like to maintain certain elements of my childhood nature, and children forgive. Children are wonderful; they emit a wonderful exuberance, they have no inhibitions, you show them something and ask them to do it, and they just do it, without asking you how, and quite often, without asking why either."_

_He's wearing those preposterous glasses again. It must be the summer sunlight hurting his eyes. It streams through the window, playing with the particles of dust in the air. Although it's beautiful in its own way, you have to agree that the sun can hurt. You always fancied yourself as more of a night creature; before you discovered magic, you were perpetually sunburnt, which only added to the atrocities of your complexion. You know it's wrong to be vain, but when you're around him, you can't help it; you'll do anything to make him notice you, to make a comment that you look "almost pretty to-day"… _

"_Anyway," he goes, suddenly snapping you out of your daydream, "I'm as much at fault as you are – I forgot your birthday – how you came of age. Remember, remember, the eleventh of December…"_

"_When's your birthday?" you've been dying for an excuse to ask him this. _

_He pauses._

"_July."_

"_Oh – really?" you wonder why he's being so vague. "What day?"_

"_The twenty-first. Right in the middle of the summer."_

_Perhaps this isn't a good time to ask him how old he is. "So…that puts you ten days before Albus!"_

_He gives a nervous laugh. "Oh – I'm thrilled, darling!" He catches your look and abruptly changes tone again. "I'm pulling your leg, dear…" _

_You shrug; it's the usual reception you get to your sudden outbursts of facts._

"_But I did have something for you – have a look." _

_It's a blueberry-coloured box, about the size of a hatbox, held shut by a pale blue ribbon. You release the knot and put the ribbon in your pocket – you hope to wear it in your hair sometime. Lifting off the lid, you see something silvery slithering around in there. Thinking it must be a trick of the light, you reach down to touch the contents. They feel like a cross between air and liquid, as you pull them out of the box. _

"_Go on, put it on!"_

"_But there's no way this is going to fit!" You realise it is some kind of cloak, made out of magical fabric, as it pools around your feet, far too large for you._

"_Try it," he says. "Remember what we were saying about children?"_

_So you put it on, and lo and behold – it fits – and – what's more – your body disappears before your eyes._

"_It's an invisibility cloak!"_

"_Naturally," he says. "I know growing up can be hard to do – sometimes it's easier to be brave when you think no one is watching you. You've felt it more and more this year, haven't you? You're not the little girl I met in Greylakes anymore, who walked in people's shadows and blind-spots."_

"_I can almost do a disillusionment charm," you say, thinking to update him as to your academic achievements._

"_I know there will come a day, very soon, when you can make yourself completely invisible. But until then," you catch his eye and he winks. "Now, godspeed, my angel-child."_

"_Oh, and by the way," he shouts after you. "I'm making you head girl next year! With Albus!"_

_That doesn't mean nearly as much to you as your birthday present though. You can't hold onto a head girl position like you can hold onto your new cloak. And are there words to explain how it feels to be holding onto a part of him, holding him close to your heart?_

_On your way downstairs, you run and crash into Albus. "How's life?" you ask him, with a friendly punch for the first day of the month, Delta-style._

"_All right. But __you__ look like the Cat that got the Cream, Cari." _

"_You're going to be Head Boy!"_

_He doesn't say anything, but he gives you this indescribable look; it's a smile, but it's something more than that too. _

_Perhaps McValley isn't trying to give you the kind of sign you searched for from 1895 to 1898. The cloak is a peace offering. He wants the two of you to be able to have a platonic friendship; none of those 'my girl' comments and none of the hands-on-shoulders business. But when it comes to Albus…perhaps…perhaps…_

* * *

_**A/N: You guys (Dr Shanty, SaintRidley, weahhh63, deeps85, nighteyes00 and WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot) deserve one more chapter before exam week...hope you enjoyed it! You should be able to figure out where McValley is by the songs he's singing...also...Happy 21st Birthday to my "older brother", Casey. I couldn't have come this far without you.  
**_


	28. Chapter 27: Cathy: Give Me Liberty

Chapter 27: Give Me Liberty, by Cathy

_McValley's voice slides over the mellow notes. _

"_Summertime,  
__And the livin' is easy__  
Fish are jumpin'  
And the cotton is high_

_Your daddy's rich__  
And your mamma's good lookin'__  
So hush little baby  
Don't you cry…"_

"_You like it?" asks McValley, during an instrumental bit, before resuming again, as you nod, not wanting to interfere with any of his clear, deep notes. His eyes are gently shut, the grey eyelashes slightly flickering under arched brows. His head is tilted back, stretching the skin across his throat. After all these years, you still get pangs of feelings when you look at him…_

"_One of these mornings  
You're going to rise up singing  
Then you'll spread your wings  
And you'll take to the sky…"_

_You think of how McValley has given you wings, and helped you to take to the sky. He has done so much more than making you Head Girl, and being your mentor in everything, _

_He has set you free. _

"_It's called 'Summertime' and it'll be - it's written by - a fellow who has the same initials as m – oh – never mind. But anyway! How have you been finding things? Ready for the NEWTs in three weeks' time?"_

"_Yes," says Albus._

"_I don't know if I can ever possibly be ready," you say. You would like all the pressure to be lifted, but at the same time you're slightly afraid of what will happen once you're let loose from Hogwarts. You suspect it'll be back into the Grey cage with you again. _

"_Oh – come on –you ought to know this – that the two of you are more than what you are, and you will be more than you have ever dreamt that you will be."_

_Albus opens his mouth, looking like he's about to say something, but then McValley surprises the two of you, as usual. He comes up to you and Albus, holds your right hand with his left, and Albus' left hand with his right. "You've been an incredible duo as head boy and girl; I do hope you'll work together in the future."_

_Naturally, you and Albus have joined hands too, and you feel a shiver scuttle down your spine. You look into his eyes, the colour of forget-me-nots. Albus is the one for you – Albus is your age – Albus is…_

"_I will not be gone for long on the Continent," he says. "I will see you both soon again. Very soon. Before you know it." _

"_Tempus fugit," says Albus, hopefully. _

"_Tempus fugere amat," says McValley._

"_Tempus amat volare," you say, last of all. _

"_The verb order is wrong," your teacher corrects you._

"_No, it's not," you say, "I'm trying to conform to the last two feet of a line of dactylic hexameter." _

"_Always the dreamy, poetic one," he laughs. "And Dory, the intellectual one. How we all balance each other out." He waves his wand, and a few things in his office pack themselves away. "Just remember one thing – good things come to those –"_

"– _who wait," you say, surprising yourself by being able to finish his sentence._

"_Exactly," he says. "Cari, wait, and you will have the liberty you crave – the walls around you will melt as if they were made of ice. Dory, wait, and you will have blazing glory – riches, and love, and fame – they will find you."_

_He continues to praise the two of you, two souls in perfect synchrony with each other, and the atmosphere in the room is positively electric. No – it's magical. _

**C.I.A.R.C.**

"Hello, Kitty."

Gellert had a bad habit of turning up in inappropriate places, Cathy decided, when he arrived in her room the third time.

"Oh God Teddy!" She saw the magical trunk, that despite its small size was able to hold more than a few rooms of junk. "Bathilda threw you out a few days early. What have you done?"

"Negative. On the contrary, _I_ moved out of my own accord."

"Why?"

"Look, Kitty, I've made a Time Traveller!"

He dangled something over her palms. Cathy cupped the heavy piece of jewellery in both her palms. It was a glass pyramid. On each triangular face was a circular dial with markings – "hours", "days", "months", and even "years". Suspended inside was a miniature globe, and within this, Cathy recognised the typical hourglass of conventional Time Turners.

"They gave me a Time Turner in second year at school – and I've never looked back," said Gellert. "They forgot to take it away from me when they so hurriedly expelled me. And now I've improved it – why should we be limited to _hours_ when there are means of not only _skipping across_ but _harnessing _the space-time vortex, continuum, whatever you wish to call it…not just _turning back _time, but _travelling through_ it."

"So," said Cathy. "That's how you found the _time_ to _create_ such an instrument?"

Gellert nodded fervently. "Come away with me, Cathy, we're going on a quest to find one of the Hallows."

"What about Albus?"

"He is…otherwise engaged…for one thing, today he has to take Aberforth down to London…to buy school things."

"Oh," she bit her lip in embarrassment.

"I've made a hundred trips into the distant future and the distant past, but how about just two today? One for work and one for play?"

She stroked the smooth, solid instrument. Gellert continued to commentate.

"This lets you turn back time by the hour, by the day, or even…by the year…and also you can _choose_ where you land up. Now all we have to do is to line these coordinates up, and then let it go…" he thrust the chain around the mesmerized Cathy's neck, and as he finished, their world swam, and Cathy threw her arms around Gellert as they tore through time.

Their arrival was heralded by a bizarre "vworp vworp" sound.

"We are now…in Russia. Just outside the village where Gregorovitch, the famous wandmaker, lives. Minus twenty years."

"Gregorovitch…"

"It is said, Cathy, that he has been studying the Elder Wand, trying to replicate it. You know, the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, the first Hallow?"

Cathy experienced an exciting thrill when she realised that Gellert had chosen her first, before Albus. All the reservations she had had about the tension between the two of them were dissolved by his words.

"I'm going to jump through the window – I have a gift for windows – and you are going to stand watch, all right? Mind the trunk."

She was disappointed; she had thought that she would be the one to have to steal it. But they had come so far already – so she agreed, and when Gellert came bounding away from Gregorovitch's house merry-faced and laughing, she threw the chain around him.

"Now, how does London, three pm, the thirteenth of August, nineteen ninety-nine sound to you? One hundred years?"

**C.A.I.R.C.**

_The NEWTs are over, your trunks are packed, you've just had your last ever End-of-Term feast (Gryffindor won the House Cup, and Hufflepuff the Quidditch Cup), and the final morning has come. Delta is shouting for joy, and you are squealing, which is getting more attention than you could ever dream of. _

_As per tradition, all the seventh years are preparing to climb into the boats, docked in the lair under the castle where you first entered Hogwarts seven years ago. And of course, McValley is there, squinting in the midsummer sun, but smiling. _

_Then something tumbles out of your mouth before you can swallow it. "Are we expected to keep in touch with you when we leave Hogwarts?"_

"_Darling! What a question to ask," he laughs. "Unfortunately I won't be around when your results come in; I'll be in Australia visiting some long-lost relatives." _

_When he comes back from Australia, and you come back to Hogwarts, you imagine, it'll be just the two of you – you'll be waving your results in front of him – thanking him for everything – nine NEWTS, you hope – and then he'll envelop you in a rib-crushing embrace – after all, he has a lot of muscle in those arms – and then you'll look up, straight into his eyes, and suddenly he'll realise you're not a child anymore – you're a woman, and you're old enough – and thus will end umpteen years of being unkissed…_

"_What are you thinking about, Cari?"_

_It's Albus._

_Damn it, why do you still feel that way about McValley? It's Albus you really love. He's the one who's worked on Patronuses with you, swapped and edited essays with you, beat the sadistic Pender and his vile Arithmancy practice examinations with you, struggled with stick figures as you tried to teach him how to draw diagrams of various weird and wonderful herbs, borrowed half of your library, including a stack of piano books…_

_You give him a smile, and nestle your head against his neck, on his shoulder._

"_I – I make a rather good cushion, don't I?"_

_He's the one with red hair, and you love red hair, don't you? Delta says you have a thing for it – the two musical wizards whom you've adored the most have been redheads – Alexander Hvorostovsky and Gabriel "Ginger" Groban…_

_You answer him, changing the subject. "So – all excited to be dashing off around the world? How long will you be gone, again?"_

_He chuckles softly. "I'll be eighteen when I get back!"_

_Dory's the one who's your age! Why can't you remember that? If you have any hope of breaking this spell of bad luck in love, it lies with him. And so next time you see him, you're going to put your arms around his waist and kiss him… _

**C.A.I.R.C.**

"We are now about a hundred years from where we started," said Gellert, tapping himself and Cathy with Disillusionment Charms.

Cathy was horrified; the nice little houses with their neat gardens had been replaced by imposing grey buildings, and there was something black and ominous beneath their feet.

"I know what you'll really like here. Come on – breathe – how beautiful is the air? It's so different from London now. And look – the things the people of the future have come up with? I think I see wizards and witches living in harmony."

They walked about under the Charm for several hours in wonderment.

"Look, there is a set of moving stairs, just like the set at Hogwarts you talked about. And look up there! Their photographs can _move_, just like ours! See the worlds – magical and non-magical – perfectly intertwined."

Cathy felt simultaneously drained and exuberant; they had just _stolen the first hallow_. "I want to go home," she said, trying to fall into Gellert's arms.

"All right, Kitty," he said. "Let's go back to Godric's Hollow and see if Albus has come around yet."

"All right," she echoed, clutching his collar.

They landed in a bedroom, which Cathy recognised at once was Albus'. On that small bed which she had never touched, sat on, or jumped upon out of respect and propriety, in the thin sheets which left very little to the imagination, was Albus, his eyes shut in sheer bliss, with Gellert's arms around his waist, with Gellert's bare chest pressed against Albus' naked back...

But before she could think, or even scream in shock, Gellert had his hands over her eyes and mouth, and the world spun again. She bit him as hard as she could.

**C.A.I.R.C.**

"God _damn_ it! I twisted the 'day' dial instead of 'hours'…"

She heard Gellert swear, then sweep a hand down the side of her body and remove her wand.

Was there anything left for her to do apart from fear the worst? Where were they? Or what was even more important, _when_ were they?

"Sshhh, Kitty, I don't want to hurt you," he hushed.

"That's what they ALL say, you lunatic. Give me back my wand!" she screamed, in a voice that seemed leagues away.

The hands vanished from her, she felt her eight and a half inches of holly fall back into her grip and she whirled around to face her enemy.

But he hadn't moved a muscle apart from that. "You're not going to hurt me either –" Gellert's smile above her wand at his throat broadened. "You love Albus about as much as I do."

"You're damned right about the second bit – I always loved him – NOT _YOU_!" Her hands shook.

"Oh really?" Gellert put his hands in the small of her back and pulled her close again.

She pushed him away.

"No you won't," he gazed straight into her eyes. "That's the best thing about you – Kitty – you're as powerful and free but as changeable as a summer breeze. We only see your true strength when you're fighting against something. Which is why you need to be oppressed to be truly free, like…most people…And why you lust after people who want to rule you. I can mould and draw you out and lead you however I want – in fact anybody with a sharp mind and wit can do it. And all your pretend fiery spirit evaporates. You mother raised you well, to wait for the right person..."

That didn't sound like Gellert at all. Something was so very wrong with the way he was phrasing his sentences. Imperius perhaps? "I should have said, I'll hex you so you'll wish you'd never been born," she brandished her wand again.

"Kitty, it's not worth losing everything over it, you're just a tad upset about…"

Now she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, so she just kept on going. "You've gone and seduced him too, to try and get him on your side. You've made him fall in love with you just so that you can get him to come on your stupid Hallows quest and take over the world and…"

"Don't you know the old saying 'if you can't beat them, join them'?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well you're welcome to join us...they have a charming little word for it, don't they, the French…"

"You're despicable. You adulterer."

"Catherine, I was never your lover – you knew that – you never wanted one. You wanted someone to play tea-parties with you, and brush your hair, and take you out for walks. You wanted a Teddy Bear, for Merlin's sake!"

All the colour in Cathy's face vanished as she recalled all the moments she had shared with Gellert Grindelwald. When she analysed each one, frame-by-frame, word-by-word, she realised it could all be broken down to frivolous banter. Except that first kiss in Bathilda's Garden, which had been before…

…_before Albus…_

…_before Albus had bewitched him, perverted him, distracted him…_

Now she was envious, as well as furious. Gellert's voice seemed muffled, as if they were all underwater. "Remember the prophecy, Kitty. The three of us have to stay together. I'm fire, you're wind, and he's water. Children of the earth. Fire needs wind to feed it, and water to calm it. So I need you. You are like the wind; your strength, your resistance, it is only visible when someone tries to catch you."

"WELL, WHERE HAS THIS GOT US _NOW_?" she screamed, with what little air was left in her lungs, lifting the chain off from around their necks. They were in a sort of dark valley, from what she could see.

"I don't know," said Gellert. "I just wanted somewhere we could talk."

She slapped him. It was long overdue, she felt, as she returned Gellert's Time Traveller to the day they had left her home.

**C.A.I.R.C.**

But then she realised the gravity of what she had done.

Now…she would find Dory, Dory would know what to do…good old reliable Dory…who could always be trusted…the boy who'd pulled her out of scrapes using his brownie points with teachers at school, who'd stood patiently waiting for her to transfigure an owl into an eagle, who'd called her Cari instead of Kitty.

She thought of Kitty, then of Cari, then of Cathy – all the names she had gone by – all the ghostly Catherines of her past.

_Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy, I've come home at last._

"Dory," she cried, hammering on the front door of his house. Dory came out, and she broke down in front of him. There were tears on his face too; all the hostility between them had vanished. But she still found it hard to look him in the eye after what she had seen.

_My Dory is gone now. He walked out of my life as soon as your Dory walked in_, she thought.

"So you heard," he whispered. "Ariana's dead. I wish we could turn back time, you and I, so that none of this could have happened, and we'd be back, safe and sound in Hogwarts again," he whispered.

_What?_

_Ariana was dead? _

_When did this happen?_

_Was this something of Gellert's doing? _

_Was Charles safe? She had told Gellert about their fight. Where was Charlie now? She had to get home – _

But Cathy thought of the Time Turner still around her neck. Albus had not recognised it yet. "No," she wept, burying her head in his chest. Albus held her more tightly.

But then he felt – or saw – the golden chain.

"What's this?"

"Ted…Gellert…gave it to me."

That was the last straw; she couldn't bear to touch anything that had belonged to that denizen, Gellert Grindelwald. She flung the accursed instrument from her head and shattered it on the cold, hard floor. What she had seen she would take with her to her grave.

Emily Bronte had had the right idea.

_Riches I hold in light esteem;  
And Love I laugh to scorn;  
And lust of fame was but a dream  
That vanished with the morn:_

_And if I pray, the only prayer  
That moves my lips for me  
Is "Leave the heart that now I bear,  
And give me liberty!"_

_Yes, as my swift days near their goal,_  
'_Tis all that I implore;  
In life and death, a chainless soul;  
With courage to endure._

**C.A.I.R.C.**

_This really is the last time you'll see McValley…well, for a while anyway. When you met him today, he shook your hand and kissed you on the cheek. He's standing in the doorframe, speaking to Albus; it will be a fine excuse to brush against him as you walk past. _

_But McValley abruptly stops his conversation with Albus. He puts his hand on your shoulder, and pushes you so close to the boy that you can hardly breathe._

"_When I'm gone, I want you two to be strong together. Until…" He never finishes this sentence. Instead, he begins to speak in slightly clichéd, but inspiring phrases. "The world is your oyster. This summer is your summer. Tomorrow belongs to you." _

_From the look on Albus' face, you know he's thinking of Aberforth and Ariana, who have been left in his care. He seems so very afraid, as if to say, "What is to become of me?"_

_So you throw your arms around him, and you run your hands over his shoulder blades, from where the buds of wings might burst, if he were a fairy, or an angel. You're not daring enough to kiss his cheek, but you whisper in his ear._

"_Don't worry – we'll never let anyone clip our wings."_

* * *

**A/N: Thank you Dr Shanty and SaintRidley for their reviews on the last chapter, and WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot for beta-ing this! Now here is a song for you. Watch me murder Aerosmith even more badly than Blades of Glory:**

**_Aerosmith – I Don't Wanna Miss A Review  
I don't wanna close my eyes  
I don't wanna fall asleep  
'Cause I'd miss your reviews,  
And I don't wanna miss an alert…  
'Cause even when I dream of you  
All I see are your sweet reviews…_**


	29. Chapter 28: Gellert: Mirror of Gold

Chapter 28: Mirror of Gold, by Gellert

_You imagine three possibilities when you look into the wondrous Mirror of yours and Albus' and Cathy's invention._

_One, you see yourself. With a golden crown upon your head, a navy-blue cloak around your shoulders, the sign of the Deathly Hallows over your chest and the Elder Wand in your hand. You have always been famous for your self-assurance._

_Two, you see Albus and Cathy similarly crowned, Albus with the Resurrection Stone in his hand, and Cathy with the Invisibility Cloak slung over her shoulder. You stand as the three rulers of the world, the empowerers of wizards and witches and the guardians of muggles. Cathy has Asia. You have Europe. Albus has Britain and the Americas. A world united, an Empire where borders of any kind are unnecessary. It is a world cured of tall poppy syndrome, because only tall poppies grow there._

_Three, your mother and father beside you, their arms around you as they whisper into your ear: "You have done well, my son." Your travels in time have allowed you only fleeting glances of your mother, as you know you must be careful, since a dead flower, a broken wineglass or a tear in a bit of lace trimming could make it so that you have never been born. Although come to think of it, there was that one time you picked a pocket, bought a dozen red roses, and left them on her doorstep with your father's name on the card. All you want is a mother without reason to surrender herself to the ocean, and a father without reason to never look his child in the eye._

_Albus loves reason. _

_Cathy perhaps not so much._

_But Albus loves it, and that matters immensely to you. _

_Most people can only see one of your many personas – the playmate, the scholar, and in the case of Bathilda, your father's elder widowed sister, the lost child. But you, you can read people like books – you can savour their subtleties and dissect their pasts. What's more, you like flipping their pages – no – pushing their buttons – to see how far they can be pushed. _

_On the other hand, Albus sees it all, and actually feels it all with you. It's neither idolatry nor sympathy, it's harmony. Pure harmony. As your mother would have put it, you might have a friend at last._

_The Mirror doesn't show you a Map, but you want to boost your friend's morale, make him think it might have worked, and to set an example that you really believe in the cause. You actually have a fair idea of where the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny, may be found. Gregorovitch, the wand-maker, has been studying it and attempting to replicate it in Switzerland. So you lie. It's not the first time you've lied. _

_But then, one night, the two of you embrace, sky-clad, and the Mirror slides into the corner of one of your eyes – you think it must be a trick of the light, but it isn't – the Mirror of Erised is truly acting like a normal mirror. _

**G.G.**

Gellert Grindelwald was accustomed to people _falling_ all over him at Durmstrang – girls _and_ boys. And he knew how to play them just as well as he could play his violin. Some just chased that which they could not have, while others were slaves to a beautiful creature. He would use precisely the same techniques on the other children of the prophecy now that he had left Durmstrang and turned to Hogwarts students.

Gellert knew the girl would be easy to win over, with a silver tongue and some princely charm. As for the boy, _he_ was not as unused to flattery as the girl, but Gellert detected a sort of loneliness, a longing for an equal, even the whiff of pent-up frustration. _He_ called for a more subtle approach, a bit more teasing and a few more games. Finally, Gellert himself had the perfect instrument to procure the perfect trio – the old, trusty Time Turner which, in their haste to expel him, Durmstrang had forgotten to take away.

Only the "perfect" plan had backfired when Gellert had decided to push the limits of the Time Turner – to turn it into something better and more useful – a Time _Traveller_.

The idea had come to him while he was lying on his bed, playing with the patterned sheets over his skin. He could get from one hideously painted flower to another by tracing a path up the inside of his inner thigh, or he could simply pinch the fabric together between his thumb and forefinger.

_Now…if only he could apply this principle to the fabric, the tapestry of time. _

Where other time "travellers", including himself up until now, had been content to simply march backwards in time, he wanted to do more; he wanted to leap across the hours, the days and the years. And then, a few days afterwards, when Albus had lain next to him in that very same bed, he had seen proof that he, Gellert Grindelwald, would accomplish this feat – for a split second, the girl, Catherine Carlton, had materialized out of thin air clutching hold of a _doppelganger_ of himself.

So, Gellert had set to work on modifying the Time Turner. It was truly put to the test and passed with flying colours when he managed to materialize at Catherine's debutante presentation. Only, he had counted on his marvellous new instrument to continue to work as precisely, which it was not capable of doing.

Much in the same way his head was not always capable of keeping his heart in check.

"_You're not in love,"_ he chided himself._ "You're only smitten. It's not love; it's infatuation. Snap out of it."_

Gellert had landed in a valley. Although he was not sure _when_ he had landed, he deduced it could not be more than ten years into the past, where it would not be too difficult to build a new device. This time, he would calibrate it properly, straightening out all the former glitches. Perhaps, if he was lucky, by the time he got back, all would be forgiven, and he, Albus and Cathy could re-unite, the Children of Cassandra Vablatsky's Prophecy. He repeated the lines to himself, twirling the Elder Wand in his fingers.

Even though he had the Elder Wand, he was reluctant to stir up trouble. For one thing, if he had landed near Gregorovitch territory, he didn't want to see what would happen if two Elder Wands from different times met up. "_Awful things happen to wizards who mess with time_," Albus had said, which explained some of his reluctance to use time travel to find the Hallows. Although Gellert believed that "changing the past" was not possible, he thought it prudent not to try.

Gellert cast an Ageing Charm so that his physiognomy would not betray his youth. Thirty years, he thought, would be sufficient to make people take him _seriously_. He then made his way out of the dip and up the hill, looking up at the castle in the distance.

_We were going to share a castle like that_, he thought, painfully. He tore his eyes away from the sight and scanned the horizon. Wondering where the nearest wizarding community was, and well-aware that he had twelve hours before the Charm would need re-casting, he placed the Elder Wand on his palm, and whispered, "_Point Me_."

**G.G.**

"Yeh're not from these parts, are yeh?" asked the barman of the Hog's Head Inn.

"No," said Gellert. He had chosen this place because it looked quieter than the Three Broomsticks. However, he was regretting it somewhat, judging by the quality of denizens who were staying here.

"Explains why yeh're so well dressed… yeh're a traveller!"

"Of sorts," Gellert said. He took a sip of butterbeer and a surreptitious scan of his surroundings. The inn was clean but very modest – the walls were bare but for a calendar and a family portrait behind the counter. "_The Tugwood Family"_, it read, "_Tabitha, Sacharissa and Sacheverell: Owners of the Hog's Head."_ There, a small girl was pictured between a short, blonde woman and the man now standing at the bar, presumably her parents.

Tugwood spoke up. "How long do yeh intend to stay in Hogsmeade for, Mister…?"

"Valley," said Gellert, thinking of the geographical structure he had just walked out of. "McValley," he corrected himself, adding a Scottish flavour in an attempt to blend in better.

"McValley? Not a name I've heard before – not a pureblood, are yeh?"

"Half-blood," said Gellert, drinking again and looking at the calendar through the corner of his eye. Today's date was Saturday the 21st of July 1892. He had gone back seven years. Somewhere out there, he was celebrating his tenth birthday.

"Ah. Not that that matters ter me, but you'll find some folk…some folk around here mayn't take too kindly to yeh."

"Oh?"

"Well, this being the biggest non-muggle settlement in Britain…Hogwarts just up the hill and all that…my girl went there," Tugwood said, his eyes lighting up. "Thought she'd go ter Hufflepuff, like my wife and I, but it was Slytherin for her…real surprising…met up with all types there. She finished a few months ago and she's off ter study Apothecary with the Healers. Smart girl, my 'Rissa…"

"You speak of Hogwarts," said Gellert. "The wizarding school?"

"That's right. What are you, a scholar too?"

Gellert nodded and drank again. "Magical theory."

"Well, yeh didn't hear it from me, but if yer planning to stay long, there's a job opening up there fer a magical theorist. Literature and Lexicology, they call the subject. Yeh look like the teaching type. And anyhow, they look quite…desperate…given there's not long 'til school goes back…"

Gellert nearly choked.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to offend, sir…only meaning that yeh speak well. Very well."

Gellert was somewhat mystified, having kept most of his answers monosyllabic in order to disguise his accent. It was likely his money that had made Tugwood talk. But he nevertheless thanked the barman for the information, and requested to be shown to his room. "No – I'll take care of that," he said sharply, when the man motioned to the black trunk.

The room showed the same Spartan decoration as the rest of the pub. Polished wooden floor, narrow bed under the window, cupboard with a non-magical mirror fixed to it. The moment Tugwood shut the door behind him, Gellert lifted the Age Charm. Recognising that there was no way his black velvet robes would blend in to this place Gellert bent down and inserted his first key into the first lock of his trunk.

It was full of petticoats and corsets. Either Albus had taken up cross-dressing or he had accidentally uncovered Kitty's stash. He tried the second one, which was full of art supplies. The third one was stacked to the brim with books, and the fourth…

The fourth distracted him. In it was a single set of purple robes.

His first instinct was to bury his face in the fabric, to inhale the clean scent that was so typically Albus and to feel the softness against his cheek, as if it could transport him back to a time when there had been pale, dewy skin wrapped within. He became vaguely aware that the sensations were arousing him, and thrust the robes back into the trunk.

_No. Stop it. Snap out of it. You'll lose control again._

Gellert slammed the trunk lid shut and forced the key into the fifth lock.

**G.G.**

"So whom do I need to speak to?" Gellert asked Tugwood the next day. "Regarding this…teaching position…"

Gellert had figured that if he could meet a person of considerable esteem, he would be able to find a way of acquiring another Time Turner to manipulate into something he could use to travel back to the present. He had never used the _Imperius_ curse before – he'd never had to, since his exceptional good looks had usually gotten him whatever he'd wanted – but he was quite sure the Elder Wand would see him through it.

"Professor Niffenegger. I can arrange a meeting for yeh," said Tugwood.

"That would be _absolutely wonderful_," said Gellert. "How can I possibly repay you for such a favour?"

"My daughter," said Tugwood, "is extremely talented. If yer ever in a position ter speak up fer her…or give her a chance ter…make a name fer herself…that would be more than I could ever give yeh."

Gellert promised Tugwood that he would do everything within his power to ensure that Sacharissa would one day become one of the world's most famous Apothecaries.

**G.G.**

"_With wands fashioned from willow, holly and vine wood, the three work in harmony for a greater good…"_

Gellert stood in front of the mirror, mouthing the words of the prophecy under his breath and polishing the English accent he had gleaned from Albus. He had cut his hair rather short – there would be no more dashingly tossing curls out of his eyes – and was looking at ways to hide his mismatched eye-colour. Spectacles with tinted lenses could work.

Now satisfied with the appearance he projected, Gellert strode down the stairs and sat down at a table in the corner of the pub to wait for Everard Niffenegger.

Niffenegger was a fairly unremarkable-looking man. Brown hair, brown eyes. Well past middle age, and well-rounded. Nevertheless, a little collateral would not go to waste.

"_Imperio_," whispered Gellert, pointing his wand under the table.

**G.G.**

Gellert found himself swiftly employed, with a tidy salary and more comfortable quarters within the Hogwarts castle. He was also given his own office – where he could hang up his portrait of the young Cassandra Vablatsky alongside the one of his mother so that he could watch it while he worked.

Uniting unicorn, dragon and phoenix all together, with hair of tail, string of heart, and one tail feather.

"Dorian," called a voice, snapping him out of his reverie during a meeting in the staff-room.

Even though he had introduced himself as "Archelaus Dorian," Gellert had avoided use of the name Archelaus, since it opened up opportunities for people to call him "Archie". Besides, A. Dorian McValley reminded him of a poem he had encounted on a foray to the future – J. Alfred Prufrock?

"Dorian – it's that dreadful time of year again," said Professor Llewellyn, the Transfiguration teacher and Head of Ravenclaw House, "The time for seeking out the dozen or so muggle-born soon-to-be first-years and providing all the necessary explanations. Here's the list – pick one or two..."

Gellert took the roll of parchment and read:

_1.Armitage, Robert Sean  
2.Bates, Thomas  
3.Carlton, Catherine Imogen Aurelia Reinette  
4.Dickison, Josephine Mary  
5.Graves, Ernest William George  
6.Hill, Sophia  
7.Kingsolver, Laurence  
8.Oakley, Elizabeth Isabella Jane  
9.Ridgebit, Harvey Harold  
10.Switch, Edward Emeric  
11.Tremlett, Theodore  
12.Vance, Virginia_

He knew at once which ones he would be seeing.

**G.G.**

The last time Gellert had showed up at Greylakes House, he had been on sufficiently good terms with the mistress to bypass the front door. But the Miss Carlton he had to see today was an eleven-year-old girl who associated magic with fairytales and longed for invisibility, not recognition. The words Catherine, Imogen, Aurelia and Reinette swarmed in his head.

He could not call her Kitty. Nor Cari.

"I have a most important matter which I must discuss with Miss Cathy," he said, and cursed himself at once. Not Cathy either. The convention in England was to call the firstborn daughters by their surnames. Immediately, the girl's father was suspicious and demanded an explanation.

Fortunately, with the aid of some "psychic paper", that was an easy task.

But the thought of having to confront Kitty still made him nervous – somehow, there was an enormous difference between going back and interfering with someone else's timeline, and treading back upon one's own. "_You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race_," he had read somewhere. How could he ensure that what he said to the girl in 1892 would not make their meeting in 1899 any different?

"My name is Professor Archelaus Dorian McValley," he said, hoping that his string of names sounded as equally impressive as hers. "I gather you were not eavesdropping on the conversation I had with your parents."

A mouse would have made more noise. Where was the "lion-hearted" third child of the Prophecy? "There is nothing wrong with a bit of courage," Gellert urged her. "Be brave, be bold!"

Kitty was even more unnerved than Gellert was – she was sitting there by the staircase railings, shivering, even though it was the height of summer. He reached out and touched her – just her hair – which would be her pride and joy one day. He wanted to say, "I know...I know it sounds frightening, but I know what you are capable of...I know what you will do..." but instead, all Gellert said was:

"I know all sorts of things. I know that blue is your favourite colour, that you would not be tall for the world, and that you are a very special girl."

And then she started to talk – and he immediately relaxed. She seemed to admire, and enjoy the "mind-reading". He quizzed her, he teased her, he stroked her cheek, and...

"_You're a witch, Kitty._"

...he called her by the wrong name.

But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise; a rosy flush stained her sun-starved cheeks. Once her adolescent pock-marks had cleared up, she could even be pretty one day – easily one of the poster-children for the grand Wizarding Revolution he had planned.

"Catherine. Lady Catherine. Named after the Catherines of Emily Bronte, or should I say, Catherine the Great of Russia? Pardon my insolence," Gellert said, and cupped her chin in his hand. From the look in her eyes, that had suddenly grown as round as saucers, he discerned that all her impressions of love until now would have been gleaned through books. The greatest love of her life would have been fictional, until now.

"They couldn't stop you," he said, speaking as much to Kitty as to himself.

**G.G.**

Gellert tried to convince himself that there was no need to fear meeting Albus again, since despite his fears, the one at Greylakes had gone so well.

And yet, he was pacing the Hogwarts Express under a Disillusionment Charm, having snuck upon the school train in the hope that watching his – former – lover – could prepare him for when a conversation would be inevitable.

He simply didn't know what to say.

Silently, he watched Albus being taken under the wings of a gang of green-and-silver-clad gorillas – Slytherin boys, not much younger than himself, but without a gram of grace. They bundled Albus away to a train compartment which Gellert would have dearly loved to enter, but did not dare to.

He thought of all the things they hadn't yet had the chance to do together – exploring Europe, watching operas, gate-crashing wild parties, making music, ice-skating, stowing away on ships, riding trains...

The compartment door opened. Albus walked out, with the biggest Slytherin boy following close behind.

"Just one more thing..." said the hefty figure.

Albus spun around, and received a blow to his face. At the sound of the crunch of cartilage and bones being smashed, Gellert lifted the Disillusionment Charm and rushed forwards, but the Slytherin was too quick for him, forcing Albus to the floor.

"What's this?" Gellert said, in his best teacher-voice.

"Oh, nothing, sir...first year tripped up, that's all," replied the Slytherin.

"Well then. I will see to his nose, which the floor has smashed, to his lip, which the floor has gashed, and to his glasses, which the floor apparently has bashed into the shape of a fist."

Gellert found himself alone in the corridor with Albus; he could feel the red-haired boy's eyes looking him over. "In here," said Gellert, opening another train compartment as means of a diversion.

"Now remember this, because I won't be there to fix your nose next time someone breaks it," he said, pointing his wand at Albus' nose. "_Holosteo_."

Albus' eyes did not widen like Kitty's, but he looked mildly impressed. Calmly, the boy tapped his glasses and cast a basic Repairing Charm. With the realisation that the most threatening person was sitting opposite him, Gellert found he could hardly breathe. The eyes were a more intense blue – if that was possible – and they sparkled with hopeful energy. His hair was too intense to be considered auburn and his features were all pale, clean and unblemished. Even now, Gellert noticed he had beautiful hands resting in his lap, with long, elegant fingers.

"I don't really need glasses; I can get by without," said Albus.

"Forgive my rudeness," said Gellert. "I'm Professor McValley – Literature and Lexicology teacher."

"Why doesn't _Reparo _work on bones?" asked the inquisitive boy.

_Because it doesn't work on everything. No spell is omnipotent. Some broken things _—_ time, space, hearts_ — _can't be fixed by magical means _—

"Not everything can be mended that easily," Gellert sighed, turning around and leaving the compartment, shocking himself at how tired he sounded. 

_Was he taking on the mannerisms of his middle-aged appearance? _

He looked at his reflection in the train window before him. 

_How in these months had he__ come so far?_

* * *

_**A/N: How in these words have we come so far?**_

**_Did you guys enjoy your epiphany?_**

_**Now you see why I kept saying, "there's more to McValley than meets the eye"! **_

_**Also...I'm guessing all the interactions of the prior chapters will have taken on a whole new meaning. **_

_**Have fun! I'll see you soon. Thank you, nighteyes00, Dr. Shanty, SaintRidley and dancingirl28843 for your reviews on the last chapter! **_


	30. Chapter 29: Gellert: The Grandmaster

Chapter 29: The Grandmaster, by Gellert

_At the age of eighteen months, you could name all the pieces on a chessboard. Half a year later, you were devouring books, and shortly after that you had started to play a violin that your father had bewitched to make small enough. So it is not surprising that at the age of five, you can beat everybody else in the house at chess, except your father, of course, who taught you how to play in the first place. Tonight, even though the sun set hours ago, the two of you are seated opposite each other on your bed, eyes glued to the wizard chess set in front of you._

"_Rook to E4," you say, and the chess piece magically shuffles forward at your command._

_You were born inside a castle, funnily enough. Back then, your grandparents were still alive, and your father's sisters – Bathilda and Cordelia – were still living with them in Germany. Now your grandparents are dead, your aunts have moved to England, the castle has been sold for some strange reason, and you and your parents live in a house by the sea in France. _

_You don't mind – you've had lots of fun learning French. That makes three languages you now know – German, English and French. Your mother thinks you should get a good grounding in Latin and Greek next. And maybe Hungarian too! She gave you a Hungarian name, after all. And then you'll learn Russian, because _everyone_ at Durmstrang knows Russian. Seven languages! So lucky – since seven is the most magical number… _

_You've gathered you're in France for your mother's health. She's been rather quiet these days. But a lot of things in your life are odd. It's part of being a wizard. Your mother is not a witch though. _

"_Bishop to G7," your father replies._

_There is a low knock on the door._

"_Gellert?" says a woman's voice. Your mother enters your room, her eyes fall on the chess pieces, and she laughs softly. "Sitting up late playing chess again?"_

_You nod energetically. _

"_Well, I'm about to call it a night," she says, sitting down behind you, gently enfolding you in a cuddle and kissing you on the head. "But maybe I'll stay for one more game."_

_You suddenly get an idea. "Knight to C3." _

_Your mother slides away from you, and goes to wish your father goodnight. _

"_Er – Queen takes bishop."_

_It's exactly what you've wanted him to do. In four more moves, you are ready to say, "Checkmate." You look up at your mother proudly. There are tears in her eyes, as she turns away. _

"_You're almost all grown up, aren't you?"_

_You nod happily. _

"_Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again," she replies with a smile, before sweeping out of the room. _

"_You played very well," says your father. "Wasn't I just saying the other day that the apprentice was so close to overtaking the sorcerer? You'll be a __Grandmaster_ _one day, you will."_

_You think you hear a door slam loudly, but you put it down to your tiredness. You yawn. _

"_Three more months and you'll be five! Isn't that exciting? You can enter the Juniors' Wizard Chess Championships! And I'd bet twenty Galleons that you'd make it onto the national team, and go to training camp in Paris, and then go to Russia for the Worlds!"_

_Your eyes, a bit too small for your face, grow wide._

"_But will you come with me?"_

"_Of course," he says. "And every night we're away from home, I'll read you bedtime stories. Just like the father of Teodor 'Teddy' Topalov, when he went to the Worlds when he was only seven…"_

_You're so excited that you don't give a second thought to your mother. In hindsight, perhaps you should have – things might have been different._

"_Can I have one now? A story?"_

"_What'll it be?"_

"_The Tale of the Deathly Hallows!"_

"_All right. ''Twas midnight, and three brothers were walking down a lonely road, when they came to a river that was too deep and dangerous for them to cross without drowning…"_

**G.G.**

By the time Christmas arrived in 1892, Gellert had much to celebrate. He had finally been given the chance to prove to himself that he knew more than all his teachers put together, and that Durmstrang had nothing left to offer him. He had been so successful in bewitching his fellow teachers with his natural charms that use of the Imperius curse was now unnecessary. He had over fifty test subjects who were helping him to streamline his theories of thought reform. _Think for yourselves_ indeed, thought Gellert. Oh, irony was sweet. Miraculously for example, not a single soul had recognised the contradiction between the emphasis on _teamwork_ and _self-directed learning_.

On the first night of the holiday season, he lifted the age charm and headed into Hogsmeade. He was sitting in the Three Broomsticks – far from his usual haunt – eavesdropping on a group of wizards about his age.

"_Go on, Linton! It's not that hard!"_

The general focus of their conversation was the group of witches, gillywater glasses in hand, one of whom they were trying to pair up with "Linton", a milky-complexioned creature with honey-coloured hair who had apparently always been too shy to approach a girl. But Gellert had a suspicion that it was not so much timidity, but reluctance. Linton seemed quite sure of himself as he tried to convince his companions of his disinterest, although quite shaky when he spoke to one of the witches. "Hello," said Linton. "Do you – study at St Amabilis'?"

St Amabilis' was a Ministry of Magic institution that both employed and trained Apothecaries. "Why, yes," said one of the girls, who had a husky, enticing voice. "Do you?"

"Y-yes; I think that's where I've seen you before. In – Neuro."

Gellert was quite sure that the boy was lying, despite his attempts at slang, but the girl shifted in her seat towards him. She was a lovely creature – tall, golden-haired, with features as fine as fresh linen – and had grace and a silver tongue to match, Gellert noticed, as she made small talk. In a way, Linton's reservations and innocence were rather charming.

"I'm Sacharissa," she introduced herself, and Gellert realised where he had seen her face before – she was Tugwood's only daughter. No matter how she seemed to warm to Linton, the boy still remained rather cold. _What a pity_, thought Gellert. _If he carried himself better, and made better clothing choices, he could make his hair look almost red..._

Another boy sidled up to their table. "Hello there, what class did you say that was?"

"Neuro," said Linton and Sacharissa at the same time.

"How d'you like it?" asked the second boy, carelessly pushing a lock of limp hair out of his sallow face. His tone was casual, but his eyes were mirthless.

"I – I like it," said Linton. "It's – good. It's – straightforward..."

"Good to hear! Good to hear," he said sarcastically, holding out his hand. "I'm John. I remember Neuro last term - It was possibly my favourite..."

"Oh, John, can't you leave us alone?" snapped Sacharissa.

"No – no – just having fun here – you see – I was wondering if you could give me your thoughts on the effects of neurological agents on muggles. Without the genes that code for the appropriate protein – remind me, what was it called again? – how do you think the brains of muggles would respond to the Proprionus Potion?"

This was what inspired Gellert; draining the last of his mug of butterbeer, he strode over to the group, took the boy by the shoulders and pushed him aside and faced his nemesis. "It just sounds like you're a first-year Apothecary student – fresh out of Hogwarts – and you've come in with all your impressive-sounding words, regurgitating Ullman."

The confounded boy only blinked. "In fact," he said, "I won't – because _I_ am of the opinion that they will have no significant effect because Ullman overlooks the presence of…"

"…they will have no significant effect because Ullman overlooks the presence of molecular chaperones in muggle brain tissue. I know where you lifted that from – Grant's _Apothecary in the Next Century: New Draughts, Old Dilemmas, _Chapter 28 – Why prescribing potions for muggles will always be futile… page 471_" _

Now the dark-eyed boy was nervous.

"Do you actually have any thoughts of your own? Or is plagiarism all you are capable of? Committing obscure passages to memory and passing them off as your own to intimidate some people and to impress a few others? That's not intelligence," said Gellert, the blood seething in his veins as he shot a sideways glance at Linton. "Not in my eyes. And if you have a problem with that, we can take it outside..."

"There's no problem," said the rough boy. They spun around, going their separate ways, the boy skulking back to his own table and Gellert heading out the door. He hadn't gone terribly far before he heard footsteps crunching through the snow, and a voice behind him.

"Wait!" Gellert didn't even have to turn around, as Linton clasped him by the shoulders. "May I even know the name of the wizard who saved my skin?"

"Wulfric," he said, using the first name that came to his head.

The boy's stare was hard and blazing – so intense that Gellert half-desired to look away. "It must be a trick of the light, but one of your eyes is..."

Gellert was so sick and tired of hearing those lines that he cut the boy off by kissing him on the mouth, after which all his suspicions were confirmed when Linton started fervently kissing him back. Well, it wouldn't be the first time he'd taken advantage of an opponent's weakness.

**G.G.**

For some time afterwards, Gellert lay motionless under the bedclothes, savouring the sensation of skin-on-skin, and even began to drift off to sleep when the boy shifted, turned to face him and stroked his cheek.

"How many languages do you speak?" asked Linton.

"German, French, English, Latin, Greek, Hungarian, Italian and Spanish." Gellert counted off on Linton's fingers. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought I heard you say something in – perhaps German – just before you were about to, you know, but all I could catch of it was the word 'Albus'." What does it mean?"

Gellert froze, barely able to comprehend that he had done something as despicable as uttering someone else's name in the heat of the moment. "It means," he improvised his next move, "It means – it's a Latin term of endearment."

**G.G.**

The only two differences between that Christmas and the following one were that this time, it was a girl, and that this time, he managed to remember Sacharissa's name.

About a week ago, he had been browsing the shelves of Infinitus, the most extensive bookstore in Hogsmeade, when someone had tapped him on the shoulder. She was nearly his height, and at least half as bold, as she said,

"_I know you," _

"_I must confess that I don't," he replied._

"_You're an idiot."_

_He gave her a quizzical look. She had a sly smile on her face, which was framed by tight ringlets of the same colour as Gellert's hair, and set off by large grey-green eyes. _

"_The fellow who could recite Grant word-for-word? I know it's been a year – but I'm _in_famous for my flawless memory."_

"_And flawless looks too, I take it," playing along with her. _

_She laughed. "The first time I saw you, it was almost like looking into a mirror."_

_He knew she wasn't lying – apart from the green eyes, she had very typical Aryan features – high cheekbones and a sharp nose, for example. _

_She extended a silk-gloved hand. "Sacharissa Tugwood," she said._

"_I know," he smirked teasingly. "Brian Barrowman," he answered, with a firm handshake which lingered very slightly._

They had met again in The Three Broomsticks (_"Are you following me? People will talk...")_ where he was convinced she had slipped something into his drink. She even pursued him to Honeydukes (_"Fancy seeing you here?" "No, fancy seeing __you__ – I'd have thought you sweet enough..."). _It then came to Christmas Eve, when Gellert realised he had no plans at all.

_Had he ever missed an opportunity? When there was no real chance of repercussions?_

She had given him her address – details of how to reach the back-door of the Hog's Head. So on December twenty-fourth, Gellert, armed with Albus' magical music box, knocked on the wreathed door.

"_Say it's carol singers," Gellert mouthed, when she opened it. He set down the music box, touched his wand to his head and withdrew a memory of the accompaniment for Schubert's "Ave Maria". _

"_Father - it's just carol singers!" she called out behind her._

"_Oh, just give them a knut and tell them to be off!" came a laugh, just as she shut the door._

"_So, are you going to serenade me?"_

"_Perhaps later..."_

They had gone for a walk in the snow, during which things had begun to heat up, and they had come back to her room above the inn. And now, the girl, who was technically a year older than him, was lying on her bed, with her skirts up around her shoulders.

She let out a sigh of satisfaction and kissed his forehead.

"Your room has automatic anti-intruder charms, doesn't it?" he asked playfully, thinking of how anxious Albus had been their first time.

"Why?" she asked, looking more amused than she should have.

"SA-CHA-RISSA TUGWOOD!"

Gellert had never imagined that the old man could look so irate. Even now, surely the sight of him scrambling for the fastenings on his pants was more comical than anything else.

"I AM GOING TO SLAM THIS DOOR – AND WHEN I OPEN IT AGAIN – ONE OF YOU WILL HAVE GONE FOREVER – DO YOU HEAR ME?"

**G.G.**

Gellert's third December was entirely different. For the past three months, Albus had been walking back into his life on a weekly basis. Avoidance was now impossible, and what was worse, would have shown a total lack of class.

But while the first confrontation had reduced him to a bundle of nerves, whistling Tchaikovsky in an attempt to affect unaffectedness, he found he had been able to smile when he eavesdropped on a conversation between his future partners in crime.

"_Anything. I quite like Chopin though," Kitty had said._

"_The Waltzes? Or the Etudes?" Albus had asked her._

"_The Nocturnes actually."_

"_That's why you like Moonlight."_

"_Yes. What about you?"_

"_I like Beethoven too, but not as much as Mozart."_

And when he had heard the short-haired Gryffindor girl say, "That's the first and the last time Albus will ever get something wrong in this class," he had thought_, that's my Albus..._and chimed in, "That's a nice touch on the Liar Paradox..."

When he had had to discuss temporal theories several weeks later, he had been distracted from the depressing reminder that he was a prisoner of time by his Ancient Greek costume and by that girl, Delta Hitchens. From the smug glances she shot at her Slytherin rivals to her more lingering looks at the students on her table, from her attention span that rivalled that of a bird to her lack of an "indoor voice", everything about her was _loud_. And _wild_.

There was this one day when she was prowling down a corridor and Gellert had the luck, or lack thereof, to encounter her.

"I saw that, Delta Hitchens," he said, referring to her violent gesture at something on the floor.

She was easy to entice back to his office; Delta would vent at anything from a piece of fallen interior décor to an unorthodox teacher figure. Under the influence of a very mild truth potion she told him about her dilemma – her desire to drop Arithmancy coupled with her loyalty to her two closest Gryffindor friends, and a blossoming first love, by the looks of it.

"We've always been inseparable, and I don't want it to look as if things have changed..."

She didn't "name names", but Gellert knew precisely whom she was referring to. There was Albus, who incited nothing more than platonic feelings in Delta, which satisfied Gellert immensely. There was Kitty, who had quite the opposite effect on her. And there was Elphias Doge. Doge, who did not take "Literature and Lexicology", was a pitiful wisp of a child, almost as invisible as Kitty but almost entirely washed of colour. Then there were Sirius and Phineas Black, her Slytherin cousins and nemeses**. **Who apparently had something very precious of hers – a copy of the First Edition of Beedle the Bard. It made him wonder whether this was the very copy he had seen on Albus' bookshelf, and he began to formulate a plan to procure the book for them.

"My mother was a muggle, in fact - she came from a very wealthy family too – but she died when I was young," said Gellert, avoiding Delta's inquisitive gaze by looking at the portrait of his mother which he had hung in his office. He never ceased being self-conscious about his heterochromia.

"I'm sorry," Delta replied.

"It's all right; I hardly knew her. I was mostly raised by the servants – and even then, they trusted me enough to entertain myself. I started devouring books when I was two and haven't stopped since! That's nothing," he said, thinking of the prophecy. I've heard of Seers who start Prophesying from the age of two! Why, I know of one particular Seer who gave a very beautiful and poetic prophecy about children when she wasn't even quite a child herself…"

Gellert found Delta's animated personalityamusing, but he wasn't sure if she was the best influence on Albus; one short temper was quite enough for the Triumvirate. On the other hand, if she felt more affinity for her own sex, and _Kitty_, of all people, then she was hardly a liability. Of more annoyance to him was Doge, who was known for following Albus around like a rotting stench.

**G.G.**

When it came to Kitty, Gellert gathered that she seemed to worship a fellow third-year Ravenclaw, Hesper Starky. He made a goal that he would always be one step closer than her to Kitty's thoughts and feelings.

"And so," said Gellert on one occasion, "War in Asia has broken out. I want to hear your opinions on it."

"I don't believe any sort of war is justified. Not even this one between China and Japan, the tensions of which really have existed for centuries."

Particularly when it came to things like politics, she had a pitiable apathy about her that Gellert was determined to change. He let her drop into his office during weekends for coffee. "Really?" he continued.

"They're fighting for Korea like children over a toy."

"Darling, that is a vast oversimplification," he replied, knowing how fond she was of terms of endearment.

"But war always ends up in the death of innocents – the civilians – hapless bystanders."

"True, but Cathy, you have to wonder, without this war, people were being tortured and killed nevertheless. Perhaps a price must be paid for peace to settle in once and for all."

"So…you believe a war can be justified by its ends?"

Gellert smiled broadly at her.

**G.G.**

Repeated use of the Imperius Curse took their toll on Niffenegger's mind so that he filed for retirement by the end of Gellert's third year. With one final incantation, Gellert took his place.

His first motion as headmaster (after replacing the door-handle to his office with a griffin-shaped one to match his Patronus), was to get rid of the Gryffindor riff-raff surrounding his precious children of the prophecy by dividing the classes by intelligence, rather than house. "Streaming" was the term, and it was done routinely at Durmstrang. It allowed teachers to keep a particularly close eye on their cleverest students. But Delta Hitchens, despite her inaptitude for Arithmacy, turned out to be uncannily good at writing. And somehow, Doge scraped his way to the top as well – Gellert suspected that Albus was tutoring him.

Now slightly concerned about the superstition that it was extremely unlucky to keep an unplayed violin, Gellert returned to his instrument within a few weeks of becoming Headmaster. Apparently, he had left it too long.

He was in his old office playing, unfettered by that infernal age charm, when he thought he sensed someone behind him. This was confirmed when he installed a surveillance mirror in his old office.

There was a girl – a Ravenclaw girl with black hair – but even when she was mostly obscured by the slightly-ajar door it was clear that she was not Kitty. This girl had narrow eyes, much like his own. He knew he was in trouble when he saw her mouth – slightly open, bounded by full, red lips that were most likely most often engaged in gossip.

Surely enough, within a week there were rumours of a blonde-haired woman wandering around Hogwarts. He would have to be more vigilant with his disguise...

…_Unless he could make something good out of his mistake. _

…_Unless the time had come for him to repay his debts to both Sacharissa and Sacheverell Tugwood. _

"Mr Tugwood," said Gellert. "May I enquire as to how your daughter is? She's just completed her training at St Amabilis', is that correct?"

"She has," said Tugwood. "And as a matter of fact, she's interested in, er, moving on from there."

Gellert's visits to the Hog's Head had become somewhat sporadic since his "younger self's" run-in with Tugwood had made it difficult to look the stocky man in the eye. Luckily, Tugwood had merely assumed that "McValley" had become more and more preoccupied by school matters.

"Well, Mr Tugwood, I think she's just found one," said Gellert, with a broad smile, more than ready to get rid of the elderly Professor Tankard, who was always finding fault with Kitty and neatly undoing all his work on building up the girl's sense of self-worth.

**G.G.**

For the first few years, all he dared to do with Albus was watch from a distance – on one occasion, the year Oscar Wilde was arrested, he perched himself in a tree by the Hogwarts Lake reading _The Picture of Dorian Grey _and watched Albus and his friends.

"Why are you doing it? CATHY! Why are you..." shouted Doge at Kitty, who was ice-skating.

She told him that she was fond of flying. And spinning – which made Gellert smile, when he remembered how easily he had swept her off her feet by picking her up and spinning her around. He lifted the Disillusionment Charm he had placed on himself.

"Professor!" exclaimed Albus.

"You skate beautifully, _Cathy_," said Gellert. "I had no idea – you always struck me as the summer type. And the type that loathed water."

"I was born in Winter – and I like lakes when they are frozen solid," replied Kitty.

"Oh, naturally, you little Kitt-en," he said, correcting himself just in time. "Quite the Ice Princess, aren't you? Albus – working on something for Transfiguration Today, I take it? The one you're doing with Emeric? Tell me how it's going..."

Gellert joined Kitty on the ice, half due to nostalgia, for he had always skated at Durmstrang, and half due to a desire to show off to Albus. He could feel the boy's burning gaze – and it warmed him.

**G.G.**

Just when he was getting sure of himself, just when he had forced "Discussion and Reflection groups", an ingenious form of thought surveillance disguised as a collaborative learning experience, upon the entire school, just as several other teachers had gotten wind of his innovative teaching methods – "group projects", "self-directed learning" and so on – and had decided to implement them even without his insistence, just as he'd thought his fifth year would be quiet, Albus' father died. Gellert sent an owl as soon as he heard.

_I'll be in my office an hour before the prefects' meeting tomorrow night if you'd like someone to talk to._

He'd made Albus a Gryffindor prefect as soon as he reached fifth-year, of course, along with Delta, since out of all the Gryffindor girls she was the only one who showed reasonable had avoided making Kitty a prefect because in his eyes, she had a long way to go before becoming diplomatic enough in the eyes of the remainder of the student body.

"Listen to this," said Gellert to Albus, emptying a vial into the music box. He had obtained it by Owl-Order from Finland, where merpeople were treated with greater respect, "And tell me what you think."

Albus, though captivated by the contraption, answered, "It's beautiful – but I don't understand it."

"You...you don't understand Mermish?" Gellert could have sworn that Albus had told him quite the contrary when they were in Godric's Hollow. Albus shook his head, and Gellert said, cryptically. "Oh – not yet."

"It's not quite a Pensieve, is it?"

"It's actually a music box – it runs on..."

"Memories."

"That's right – go on, put one in!" said Gellert impatiently. "Oh – never mind – let me. I think I know what you might like." He added some excerpts from the opera, _Carmen, _to the waterfall.

The music gave Albus more confidence, as he took Gellert's wand without asking, siphoned off the old memory and added his own – Mozart's Sonata in A Major. "I suppose you can play it already as well?" asked Gellert. He also remembered that it had been one of Percival Dumbledore's favourites, but couldn't remember exactly _when_ Albus had told him this. Gellert did worry from time-to-time that his memory was going.

The clock struck nine, as Albus asked, "Can you?"

"Oh, no, definitely not. I couldn't play a piano to save my life. I'm a violinist all the way."

"And a singer too?"

"Perhaps," said Gellert, thinking of all the times he could've serenaded Albus that summer – and hadn't.

**G.G.**

Some weeks after Kitty returned from her Christmas holidays, he was talking to her about what she had "negotiated" with herpeskyparents when a silvery seal passed through the floor between them, swam through the air, and disappeared through the back wall.

"What was that?" asked Kitty.

"I…" Gellert began to piece things together in his head.

_Whose Patronus was a Seal? _

_Harvey Ridgebit's. _

_Where was it coming from?_

_The seventh floor._

Now, there was a willing spy in front of him, and he was not afraid to use her. "I'd go the long way tonight if I were you," he said casually.

"You mean, I ought to take the narrow stairs on the left…?"

"Go past the seventh floor corridor…that's right, my girl," said Gellert, who knew that she would be harping on the words "my girl", and not looking for an explanation.

"Yes, Professor," she said.

He was struck by how she still didn't look like the Kitty of the meadows of Godric's Hollow; her heart-shaped face was still marred by red bumps and blotches; hardly the visage of wizarding royalty. Perhaps he needed to drop a hint to Tugwood that she might have found a volunteer for her Beautifying Potion experiments?

**G.G.**

He wasn't sure himself why Artemis had to be expelled – but Albus had referred to it in Godric's Hollow.

"_How could I possibly shun you? People can be expelled from school for next to no reason at all – when I was in my fifth year, a boy called Artemis was expelled…"_

It had been one of the reasons Albus had accepted him – and he did not want to change a thing about that summer.

There was at Hogwarts, however, one wrongdoing which Gellert wanted to undo as soon as it was committed. He had unwittingly left the door to one of his back-roomsslightly ajar while playing a memory from a show in Germany called _Aida_. He had thought he was watching the Verdi opera; what had greeted him that day in the year 2004 was an eclectic musical that believed in destiny transcending time and space.

"_I am here to tell you we can never meet again  
Simple really, isn't it, a word or two and then..."_

While enjoying the music, he had not bothered to renew the age charm – these days it wore off more and more quicklyas his resistance to the magic increased. Naturally, he had been rather alarmed when he heard one of the portraits in his office begin to speak – a sure sign that somebody had entered. He had fumbled about to ready himself for the visitor, only to see in his surveillance mirror a familiar, short and slender silhouette lurking behind the door to his back-room.

_Kitty had seen him without the age-charm, before Godric's Hollow..._

He had panicked, and roughly pushed the door openas soon as she had moved away from it.

"Kitty! I don't have time – I am not a machine…or a bin for you to dispose of all your problems – I can't have you constantly bursting in here like this just because you refuse to grow up!" he exploded, more angrily than he had intended.

Kitty had bitten her lip, flown out the door on the verge of tears, leaving Gellert concerned, and then confused about what he had to do to win back his pawn**.**

**G.G.**

During the months that Kittywas avoiding him, Gellert had time to return to the Hallows – the keys to the Prophecy. The Hogwarts library was far more extensive than Durmstrang's – and not only because of the books. The Ravenclaw ghost, true to her House's fixation with learning, could often be found wandering the deserted shelves outside of school hours.

"I understand why you're here. Nearly all I did when I was at school was haunt the library."

It did not take Gellert long to coax Helena Ravenclaw into telling him the _real _reason why she was _there_, why she walked the world of the living instead of the world behind the veil.

Helena's mother had not known who had fathered her daughter – and made it clear that she did not care, continuing to write up a list of exploits that would have rivalled Casanova's. The only person that came close to "the love of her life" was the muggle-born wife of a man named Peverell, who had a daughter named Lavinia.

"We were always at Aunt Tristana's – and Lavinia and I were always being told to go outside and play – only one day, we didn't – we hid behind a curtain and saw..."

Gellert listened intently. Hungrily, even - for he felt a sort of affinity, even empathy, for Rowena Ravenclaw – another who separated love from desire, who overlooked petty things such as race and sex. It took much longer than he had expected to return to his original subject.

"What happened to Lavinia Peverell?"

"What do you think losing three brothers did to her? Two buried before their time, and one vanished, presumed dead? She _survived_, but she didn't _live. _She was in the void between life and death from then on – and she still is."

Gellert dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. "What do you mean by, _she still is_?"

**G.G.**

"I would very much desire to meet with her," Gellert had said, then suggesting that Lavinia Peverell might enjoy the annual Hogwarts Ghosts' Halloween Party.

From Lavinia, Gellert learned that Ignotus Peverell had changed his surname – to something still beginning with a P – before heading for the South-West. ("_He was down to three – Pratchett, Pullman and Potter..._")

By consulting _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Geneaology_, Gellert learned that the Pullmans had always lived in East Anglia, and that the Pratchetts were extinct in the male line, but that the Potters had always inhabited the West Country.

Moreover, Gellert _had_ heard of Wizards by the name of "Potter" before. There had been a boy – a year older than Albus – and a rather good-looking one too – called Kenneth. Played Quidditch well, was bright enough to be worthy of prefectdom, if not Head Boy, but on the whole, was a fairly "average bloke". Had a much older brother and sister who had finished with Hogwarts before Gellert had arrived on the scene, and hints of the spoiled personality associated with being the family baby, but on the other hand had the chivalry and charm that came with an upper-class upbringing. Liked Astronomy, Arithmancy – indicating a mechanical mind that could not believe in things like God and Fate, things which could not be "figured out". Relatively easy opponent.

"Oh – and Kenneth," said Gellert, after one Prefects' meeting. "If I might have a word with you..."

"Of course, Professor," replied the boy.

"_What kind of charm would be most effective?" _thought Gellert, not prepared to addle the boy's brains any more than he needed. "_Confabulo..."_

Kenneth's face went oddly blank and perfectly expressionless.

**G.G.**

The Cloak came to him at the start of January, after the winter holidays. As did Kitty.

"I thought – I thought you might like your book back," she said, holding out _The Age of Innocence_, by Edith Wharton. "I'm sorry...I...I thought you wouldn't forgive me for..."

"Oh – no – I'd forgive you for anything. Like you, I like to maintain certain elements of my childhood nature, and children forgive. Children are wonderful; they emit a wonderful exuberance, they have no inhibitions, you show them something and ask them to do it, and they just do it, without asking you how, and quite often, without asking why either," said Gellert, rambling excitedly. "Anyway – I'm as much at fault as you are – I forgot your birthday – how you came of age. Remember, remember, the eleventh of December..."

Gellert had decided to give the third Hallow to Kitty now – for it had been in her possession at Godric's Hollow, and she had mentioned that it had been a seventeenth birthday present.

"When's your birthday?" she suddenly asked.

He hesitated. "July."

"Oh – really? What day?"

"The twenty-first. Right in the middle of the summer," he replied, hoping that his clipped responses would give her a hint.

He was wrong. "So…that puts you ten days before Albus!"

_How _could he forget? "Oh – I'm thrilled, darling!" he said, sarcastically. She did not understand that either, of course. "I'm pulling your leg, dear…"

She shrugged.

"But I did have something for you – have a look," he said, and handed her the large blue box, decorated with a pale blue ribbon, which held the precious Cloak. Without much effort he convinced her to try it on.

"Now, godspeed, my angel-child," he said. "Oh – and by the way – I'm making you head girl next year! With Albus!"

Kitty would _always_ come back to him, no matter what he called her.

**G.G.**

"Knight to B5."

It was 1899, and he had long dispensed with the conventional scheduled meetings for his two Captains; they were now permitted to show up at his office on virtually any night of the week as long as they Owled him first. The content of these discussions had also degenerated; rarely was it about running the school. Far more often it pertained to philosophy in Albus' case, or poetry in Kitty's case. Or it consisted of wizard chess games, in Albus' case.

"Pawn takes pawn," replied Albus, avoiding the temptation to fork the black rook and King, which would have led him into a trap.

"Good move," said Gellert. "Black pawn to C6."

It was a risky move; he knew he was sacrificing his rook just to protect his queen, but he wanted to see what Albus would do. These days, Gellert found himself drawing games out, shunning swift victories and constructing ridiculously elaborate plans that he occasionally bungled. Usually, reaching a stalemate was even more maddening than being defeated, but in the case of chess games with Albus, they brought him a sort of blissful peace.

"Knight to C7, Check." The white knight moved up to claim its prize.

"King to D8."

"Knight takes Rook," said Albus.

"Knight to F6."

Albus looked up at Gellert with apprehension as he took the black knight on B6 – he was aware that "McValley" never played easy with _anyone_.

Gellert winked, though uneasy himself, as he planned to sacrifice another piece. "Knight takes Pawn."

"Knight takes Bishop?"

"Knight takes Pawn."

"Knight to E6, Check."

Albus' defence was not a strong one, thought Gellert. "Pawn takes knight."

"Queen to G6."

"Rook to H2."

Like this particular chess game, Gellert knew he had set up the not-so-distant future spectacularly well. He had mastered the Elder Wand. He had obtained the Cloak for Kitty, and although she did not yet know it was a Hallow, she would keep it safe on account of the soft spot in her heart for "Professor McValley". Gellert even had some idea of the whereabouts of Albus' ring – if Lavinia Peverell's facts had been right, it had passed into the hands of the Gaunt family, who had attended Durmstrang for several centuries. Gellert was prepared to spend the two months after the two children left school tracing the Resurrection Stone for Albus. He would wander the world if he had to, under the guise of "visiting Australia".

"Rook takes pawn," said Albus, narrowly avoiding Mate in two moves.

Gellert nodded, to show his approval. "Pawn takes rook."

"King takes rook."

That would be the last useful move Albus' King would make. "Queen to H4, check."

"King to G1."

"Queen to H2, check."

"King to F2."

"Queen to G2, check."

"King to E3."

"Knight to F1, check."

"King to F4."

Gellert was reluctant to deal the final blows. For some reason, as seventeen-year-olds, they were – would be – no, were – too busy to play chess in Godric's Hollow. "Queen takes Queen," said Gellert, his heart pounding as much as Albus' must have been at that moment.

"King takes pawn."

"Knight to H2, check." Gellert resisted the urge to add the condescending "again" he usually dealt out to opponents.

"King to F2."

"King takes knight."

"Bishop to F4."

"Queen to F5."

"King to G3."

"Queen to G4, check."

"King takes Knight."

"Queen takes Bishop – Checkmate," said Gellert. "Good game; you played _very_ well tonight. You almost..."

Sitting in front of him was _almost_ the boy he had fallen in love with in Godric's Hollow. He was suddenly afraid of the one thing he had not planned; how long a gap he ought to leave between Ariana's death and the following confrontation.

Gellert cleared his throat. "Look at the time – making fools of us again."

"Time," echoed Albus.

"Yes, I'm obsessed with time," Gellert replied.

"Why?"

"Because..." he pondered.

_Because the age charm runs out after twelve hours. Because if I'd never tried to tamper with time, I'd never have wound up here. Because of you..._

"Unfinished business with my mother," he said, giving Albus the same rehearsed answer he had given Kitty.

"I'm sorry," said Albus.

Gellert quickly pushed his chair back and went to the window. In a matter of weeks, Albus' own mother would be dead, and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say, to make Albus hurt any less. Fighting back tears, he began to try to say something meaningful.

"You are more than what you are, and you will be more than you have ever dreamt that you will be. I expect great things from you, Albus. I don't even ask for remembrance – I just ask that you step out into the world and achieve all the glory you deserve…"

* * *

_**A/N: First things first: Multas gratias tibi, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, ago! That's right - the wonderful beta who went through all 7000 words of this chapter.  
**_

_**Secondly: I apologise for not updating earlier. This was easily the hardest chapter to write, not just because I knew it was going to be even more epic than the last (hope you're still awake at the end of this), but also because of the complicated timeline (hope I haven't confused you as much as I confused myself!). I must admit I've been procrastinating with "To Dwell on Dreams" and my original NaNo for this year.**_

_**Thankyou from the bottom of my heart to: nighteyes00, weahhh63, WhiskeyTangoFoxtrot, dancing in daydreams, 13-lucky-charms, Dr Shanty, SaintRidley, RainbowRainbird and deeps85 for their reviews on the last chapter! Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long.  
**_

* * *

_**Also - I was both too lazy and too incompetent to come up with a spunky chess game in my head for my favourite two boys to play, so I trawled the web until I found one I liked. (Gustav Richard Neumann vs Joseph Henry Blackburne) Here's the notation:**_

_**1. e4 e5 2. f4 exf4 3. Nf3 g5 4. Bc4 Bg7 5. d4 d6 6. O-O h6 7. g3 g4 8. Ne1 f3 9. c3 Nd7 10. Na3 Nb6 11. Bb3 Qe7 12. Nd3 Bd7 13. Nf4 h5 14. Qd3 h4 15. Nb5 hxg3 16. hxg3 c6 17. Nc7+ Kd8 18. Nxa8 Nf6 19. Nxb6 Nxe4 20. Nxd7 Nxg3 21. Ne6+ fxe6 22. Qg6 Rh2 23. Rxf3 gxf3 24. Kxh2 Qh4+ 25. Kg1 Qh1+ 26. Kf2 Qg2+ 27. Ke3 Nf1+ 28. Kf4 Qxg6 29. Kxf3 Nh2+ 30. Kf2 Kxd7 31. Bf4 Qf5 32. Kg3 Qg4+ 33. Kxh2 Qxf4+ 0-1**_


	31. Chapter 30: Gellert: A Dream

Chapter 30: A Dream, by Gellert

_I Dreamt a Dream! What can it mean?  
And that I was a maiden Queen  
Guarded by an Angel mild;  
Witless woe was ne'er beguil'd! _

_And I wept both night and day  
And he wip'd my tears away  
And I wept both day and night  
And hid from him my heart's delight._

_(William Blake)_

_-  
_

_Durmstrang is dull. Fourth year, and what do you spend most classes doing? Certainly not studying. But you don't mind it. In fact, if you ever get the chance to run a school, you'll make sure there are pointless classes for ordinary people to catch up on sleep, to daydream, to write poetry, or, as you are doing now, to read the newspaper._

_**A Prophesying Prodigy**_

_**Cassandra Vablatsky, at the tender age of two, yesterday made her third prophecy. Sharp readers will recall how she foretold the sudden passing of the Deputy Minister for Magic, and located the final resting place of the Celtic witch queen, Boudicca (under Platform 10 of London's King's Cross Station). In her latest, she announces in rhyme the coming of "three children", upon whom "a new age of magic" depends. To read the full story, turn to page 39.**_

_You turn to the appropriate page, interested to see what Vablatsky can produce next, since you've always had an interest in other precocious children, even if they're twelve years younger than you. _

_The translation of Vablatsky's prophecy tells of "three children", two wizards and a witch, who will meet in a time of evil and restore good and harmony to the world. It also describes them in some detail – their financial status, heritage, physical features, wands, and even some aspects of their characters._

_But what excites you the most is that with your wand of vine-wood and dragon heartstring, your wild, curly hair, and your incredible intelligence, you could very well be one of those chosen ones..._

"_What's that?" snaps your Potions mistress._

_You make no effort to hide the fact that you're reading the newspaper. "I'm waiting for my version of the Forgetfulness Potion to come to the boil. You see, your run-of-the-mill draught can be compared to the way a palimpsest works." _

_The look in Professor Zuber's eyes makes you think that your vocabulary might be greater than hers. _

"_You know, how in ancient times, parchment was scarce, and so muggles would scrape their scrolls off to be reused, but a careful examination could bring the original text to light? Well – the conventional forgetfulness potion – and other standard memory charms – can be easily undone by a bit of wandwork. And they can even unravel themselves – the most miniscule trigger – an image, a sound, a scent – can re-awaken those old memories."_

_The class has gone deathly silent. _

"_Now this," you indicate your own cauldron, "This contains something more than an eraser. It has a dash of denial, thanks to the milk-flowers. It has a mild sedative, preventing resistance – you know, how the Imperius curse can be thrown off with practice? And last of all, I've added a touch of a false memory – that will make you think you dreamt it, should you ever experience a flashback."_

_The girl standing over the cauldron next to yours bursts into applause. Professor Zuber maintains the same dumbstruck expression for all of thirty seconds, before sweeping away. _

_Victory is a sweet feeling like nothing else._

**G.G.**

It was summer, and Gellert was singing what he thought was an appropriate song, by George Gershwin, when Kit arrived.

"You like it?" he asked Kitty. She evidently did, and so he gave her the privilege of a few more verses, during which Albus arrived.

"It's called 'Summertime'", he told them, "And it's written by a fellow who has the same initials as m – "

He narrowly stopped himself from saying "me".

"Oh – never mind - but anyway - how have you been finding things? Ready for the N.E.W.T.s in three weeks' time?"

"Yes," said Albus.

"I don't know if I ever possibly can be ready," said Kitty.

"Oh, come on. You ought to know this – that the two of you are more than what you are, and you will be more than you have ever dreamt that you will be."

Before Albus could say anything in reply, Gellert took hold of his hand, and then Kitty's. "You've been an incredible duo as head boy and girl; I do hope you'll work together in the future."

Kitty's hand found Albus' other, which brought a smile to Gellert's face. "I will not be gone for long on the continent," he said. "I will see you both soon again. Very soon. Before you know it."

"Tempus fugit," suggested Albus.

"Tempus fugere amat," said Gellert.

"Tempus amat volare," said Kitty, last of all.

"The verb order is wrong."

"No, it's not," she said, "I'm trying to conform to the last two feet of a line of dactylic hexameter."

"Always the dreamy, poetic one," Gellert laughs. "And Dory, the intellectual one. How we all balance each other out." He waved his wand, and a few things in his office packed themselves away. "Just remember one thing – good things come to those –"

"– who wait," finished Kitty.

"Exactly," he says. "Cari, wait, and you will have the liberty you crave – the walls around you will melt as if they were made of ice. Dory, wait, and you will have blazing glory – riches, and love, and fame – they will find you."

**G.G.**

"You're a Seer," said Albus, over the familiar circle-of-fifths chords. D, A, B, F sharp. "You knew that we'd meet again soon."

"Oh – God – Albus – I didn't mean it that way – I forgot – I mean – I can't believe it either. I mean – very few people can read the future like that; and I have a suspicion that I'm not one of them. I prefer to read people, you know, they're absolutely fascinating creatures."

Gellert gritted his teeth. How _could_ he have forgotten about Kendra's death, which had taken place after Albus had left Hogwarts, and before the events of Godric's Hollow? One of the things that had brought them together that summer – the summer that was to come in Albus' time, and the summer that had happened seven years ago in Gellert's time. Of course, it had happened as soon as Gellert had withdrawn the last of his gold from his Gringotts account (he had more than enough for a decade-long round-the-world trip, thanks to some shrewd investments), and finished packing up his office.

Albus' eyes had glazed over and Gellert knew he had stopped listening halfway through the carefully constructed speech.

"Pachelbel's Canon – we had it at _my _mother's funeral as well," he said. It was one of the few things Gellert could recall from that surreal day, when he and his father had been the only wizards in a sea of muggles. Gertrude, his father's twin sister, had been too ill to attend – so ill that she had died within the next year, but Bathilda had simply not bothered to show her face. What a farce their family was.

"I know – you told me," Albus replied mechanically.

"The stories of our lives are so very alike, so very inextricably linked...I shall miss you very much on my travels. You and all the other students, of course. A school is a unique environment…"

"You'll write, won't you? I'm going to be so lonely this summer."

Albus' words wrenched his heart-strings and wrung his guts.

"You won't be lonely," Gellert swallowed and continued, thinking of the cowardly act his seventeen-year-old self would soon commit. He took off Albus' glasses and wiped them on his own robes. "You'll be all right."

**G.G.**

Yet another mistake, which Gellert cursed himself for, was missing that Kitty had been carrying around one of the Hallows. He'd spent all of two months with her, never asking her, or even wondering, how a muggle-born had acquired such an expensive magical item. He'd merely assumed her wealth had had something to do with it. But now, at twenty-four, he knew how much assumptions could cost and was determined to avoid them as much as possible.

He lay low from July until September, planning his next few moves from a muggle establishment in Cornwall. He pondered ways to tell Kitty that her cloak was the very Cloak they had been scheming about over the summer. He was most strongly tempted to send her a vision where a cloaked figure told her, _"That is no ordinary cloak of invisibility in your hands – it is nothing less than the Third Deathly Hallow, which was stolen seven years ago from the Potter family – the last descendants of Ignotus Peverell. How it fell into your hands – only Fate knows..._"

But in the end, all he wrote was a letter to let her know that he had returned to the present safe and sound.

_Oh, Kitty, did you think I would be irresponsible enough to not carry a duplicate Time Traveller just in case? I thought you prided yourself on being well-read; have you never stumbled across stories of wizards and witches who became "trapped in time" when their Time Turners broke by accident? Granted, those are fictional, but the principle is the same – time is a fragile, fleeting thing..._

Kitty sent back an apology for her actions and expressed her relief that nothing bad had come of them. Gellert replied to let her know that she had been forgiven long before she had asked, and that he was now going back to the Continent in an attempt to make things right with his father.

On the other hand, the waste-parchment basket was full long before he sent a single owl off to Albus. A part of him wished he had put down a few of his thoughts immediately after the incident, not because the events were no longer fresh in his mind, but because it might have provided him with some inspiration now.

How had he felt seven years ago? Shakily venturing into unchartered waters, enjoying new sensations, and daring to dwell in day-dreams.

Drawing upon his experiences with leaving notes on the pillows of his one-night stands proved completely useless.

_I can't begin to express how remorseful I am for deserting you as I did. What can I say, I was frightened, foolish, and above all, young..._

He crossed it out violently, having forgotten that to Albus, only a week or so had passed since Ariana's death.

_Not an hour goes by that I don't wish I could turn back time, and undo the unspeakable things I did..._

He put the end of his quill into his mouth.

_Please forgive me for all that I've done, and all that I'm about to do._

**G.G.**

The lies would follow Gellert to his father's home in Germany. The old man looked him up and down, eyeing with approval what he thought was just a change in hair-style, and perhaps a gain of a few pounds, or the addition of an inch or two. Happenings that were unlikely, but possible, in the space of sixty-two days.

"Do you like it?" Gellert asked, casually running one hand through his hair and casting a non-verbal _Confundus _with the other.

Gaius Grindelwald's eyes rolled back into his head, but after several blinks, he spoke slowly but steadily. "You look older. Britain must have been good for you."

"It was, father," said Gellert. "And that's why I'm going back there again."

His father made a sound that resembled a grunt. "So why did you come home, then? I seem to recall your last words to me were – 'I'm seventeen and I'm old enough to stand on my own two feet..."

Gellert sighed; their last argument had included him saying, "_I'm sixteen and I'm old enough..._" But his father had never remembered his son's age, let alone his birthday. "I shall be gone for a very long time – much longer than we originally planned," he said. "I have – work to do."

"Work? You found _work_? Better and better...dare I hope that it will be in a field where your – talents – will not be wasted? Healing? Law? Banking? Academia? How did you manage to find employment?"

"Aunt Bathilda has some most interesting neighbours," said Gellert truthfully.

**G.G.**

"Incitatus, you may go now." The house-elf bowed and left.

It was now after dinner, and they had moved to the lounge, Gellert on one side of the coffee-table and his father on the other side, with a pipe in his mouth.

"I don't remember you taking up that muggle habit," Gellert said, referring to the smoking.

"I don't remember _you_ ever coming home of your own accord," answered his father. "Every holiday spent at school, and we had to drag you kicking and screaming..."

He stopped, not sure whether the expulsion was still raw in his son's memory.

"Oh, the school always gave us too much to read and too many essays to write."

"You know, if I'd had it my way, then I'd never have let you go to _that _school."

"What, Durmstrang?"

"No. It's going downhill, that school. If I hadn't been so swayed by your grandparents, I'd have sent you to Britain long ago – so that you could be educated at Hogwarts."

"_You_ wanted _me_ to go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes."

Pangs of – _guilt?_ - racked his stomach, and Gellert had an inexplicable urge to unbottle all the things he had seen, said and done.

"Tell me about how Bathilda is."

Gellert described his aunt's elegant country-house, the ballroom with the crystal chandeliers, the balconies with the marble columns, the velvet lounge-chairs, the lack of house-elves and the libraries one could get lost in.

"Good to hear she's gotten something out of her marriage to that batty old Bagshot fellow. _Twenty years_ older than her! What on earth could she possibly see in him – she had plenty of money, a successful career – and she went on and on about _a match of minds_…a fellow historian…absolutely ridiculous. And I thought Gertrude was bad enough, cavorting about with that _woman_…I thought twins were supposed to be _close_, supposed to tell each other everything! It just goes to show, you _never_ know people. What are you hiding? A pregnant woman? A string of murders? A – Merlin forbid – a _boy_?"

Gaius paused to catch his breath after the outburst.

Gellert hadn't planned it, but on the spur of the moment he thought about the flask of Forgetfulness Potion in his trunk, which he had last used on a particular Irish fellow. "Father, I brought something back from Britain," he said, twisting the Elder wand – now his wand - through the air. "It's Icewine. Heaven knows why they have it in Britain – it's wet and cold enough as it is – but they seem to like it."

They drank, jested about the quality of British food ("not a lot of flavour…") and started coming up with ideas for a thank-you present for Bathilda. There were types of magic that could not be explained by lexicology – like blood magic and wandless magic – and Gellert had begun to wonder if there was some magic associated with repairing family bonds.

"Now listen," said Gellert, after about half an hour. "I have something I want to tell you; you know about the Time Turner I had at Durmstrang, and how I wanted to..."

His father's eyes narrowed; he knew that it had been one of Gellert's boyhood dreams to travel through history and experience battles, concerts and cosmic events first-hand. "You wanted to let it take you back several years, instead of several hours? Don't tell me that crackpot, childish dream of yours came true..."

"You wouldn't believe all the things I did with it! All the places I went – but we don't have time tonight – maybe another day, when it's written in a book and every child knows our names..."

Gellert looked at the clock on the wall – they had perhaps five minutes before the sedative completely overpowered his father.

"I met the most extraordinary wizard..."

"...ah...."

"...Who taught me more in two months than I learned in six years at Durmstrang. Father, I know you don't believe me, but it was as if he'd studied with the intention of teaching a dozen different subjects, such was the depth and breadth of his knowledge. I daresay he even knew more about muggle history than most of _their _historians! Moreover, not only did he possess this incredible internal encyclopaedia, he had a mind like - like - I don't know how to begin to describe it, except by telling you that he gave me the best chess game in years."

Gaius nodded drowsily in reply.

"And so, we're going to be the leaders - of a new wizarding movement! Free the magical peoples of the world, unite them – imagine it! Utopia, a world without borders! But I want..."

Gellert could see his father's eyelids fluttering, and hear his breathing becoming heavy.

"No – don't go!" he grabbed the man by the shoulders, and shook him. "I can't – I just can't leave again without – you never forgave me for what happened to mother – I need to hear it from you that I have your blessing – that you'll be proud of me no matter what happens – I don't know if I can ever see you again after tonight..."

But it was too late; the man had already begun to snore.

**G.G.**

Now that his father had no recollection of ever having a son, Gellert turned to scouring of all the great magical antique stores of Europe.

_Or rather, dear Albus, all the dingiest, darkest alley-ways of Europe. But there is a certain beauty in darkness – as I am sure you are aware – for without the dark, there can be no day, and no subtle gradient from light to dark. _

Several summers later, he found himself in Russia. It was the only place apart from Britain which he had been avoiding, due to its association with Durmstrang. While the school was not exclusive to Russian students, its location on an island in the middle of the Barentsz Sea was enough to bring the feelings of imprisonment back to him in nauseous waves. Funny, he thought, when he recalled that Azkaban was also on an island – off the north coast of Ireland. But there was no logic – any patch of land could be made Unplottable, a large body of water was of little consequence to a wizard…

_If I were to build a prison, I should want it in an entirely landlocked area - not because it is any more unpleasant than a place surrounded by water (I am sure you will agree with me, Albus, that the salt spray, the sea stench, and the relentless roar of the ocean tip the balance the other way), but because of the old saying, "_prope te habe amicos, inimicosque propius"_ - keep friends close to you, and enemies closer._

But one trip to a subversive little store made his trek to Russia all worthwhile. He knew he had discovered a gold-mine, as he committed to memory the titles and authors of books such as _Why is it Secret - What have We to Hide?_, or _It's a Talent – not a Crime_.

"Can I help you?" squeaked an elderly witch, most of her face hidden by a pair of enormous silver spectacles and a cloud of wiry grey hair.

"Yes," said Gellert, remembering the real reason he was here. "I'm searching for a particular artefact to aid my studies – a gem that has the power to bring a corpse back to life."

"You mean – something to resuscitate?"

"No..."

"Something that revives people?"

"No – precisely something that can re-animate the dead."

She surprised him with a low whistle. "No magic can awaken the dead, young man."

"I didn't say _awaken_," Gellert said, annoyed, "I said _re-animate_. There is a fine line between..."

She raised an eyebrow. "Apologies for misunderstanding you at first – but I think I may have something..."

Gellert followed her as she strode over to a glass cabinet, muttering to herself, "_Bring a corpse back, bring a corpse back..."_

"I'm doing a study on the concept of life after death," Gellert said, before she could ask.

"Well – I am not sure if this is _exactly _what you're looking for, but..."

She put something extremely heavy into his hands.

Gellert studied the jet-black stone, the centrepiece of a golden circlet which also contained a number of bright blue jewels.

"Legend has it that _this _was once used in the creation of _Inferi_," said the witch, lowering her mousy voice to a whisper.

He felt the blood rush to his head, and feared his excitement at finding what he most dearly wanted might be visible. "I suppose I would stand to learn a lot from such an object. How much?" he asked casually.

"Two thousand."

Although his short stint as a Hogwarts headmaster, supplemented by large bets ("gambling" was quite the wrong word since he knew their outcome) on certain memorable Quidditch matches, had given him more than enough gold, Gellert still narrowed his eyes.

"One thousand five."

"Eighteen hundred, and you can have this miniature Font of Youth as well."

"Font of Youth?"

"Not that you'd need it, but I'm told it can wipe seven years off your face if you use it every day for a month. Got a girl in mind, perhaps?"

"Oh – I'd be inclined to think that a girl would be offended if you gave her such a gift – she'd think you were implying she looked like an old hag. But I'll take it anyway," Gellert said hastily, getting out his wand in preparation to magically sign away the amount.

"A _Swiss_ bank account? You from around those parts?"

"I was born there," said Gellert. In fact, he had gotten the idea to open a spare account in a bank in that country when he had found a town there bearing the name "Grindelwald".

The little witch had gift-wrapped the Font of Youth, an odd affair reminiscent of the music box he had given Albus – or Albus had given him – he wasn't entirely sure how that _thing _worked. But this fountain came with a bottle full of a milky substance that, when allowed to flow a few times through, took on the consistency of a cream containing gritty particulate matter. He supposed it was some kind of potion designed to exfoliate several layers of skin. He now felt like a fool for having imagined he would be able to "wipe seven years off his face" and fly back to Albus' side.

Five years of travelling had amounted to this. Gellert swallowed; his mother had been right when she had said, "_Things show up when you least expect them, or where you'd rather not look..." _

Having unpacked the fountain from its box and wrappings of velvet, Gellert put the crown in its place, cast a number of protective charms on it, and locked it into Albus' compartment of the trunk.

**G.G.**

Gellert stayed in Russia for the remainder of the year, studying the Crown and completing his analysis of all three Hallows. Eventually, however, it became time for him to act upon the next item on his list: _Followers_. The highly eloquent _It's a Talent – not a Crime_ had been written by a witch by the name of Tiberia von Thropp, who had been living with her brother in Russia after her husband had passed away.

The door swung open, revealing a pair of house-elves. "Come in! Mistress is expecting you!" The parlour they led him to was empty, except for a long-haired woman sitting with her back to him, reading the Quidditch section of a newspaper.

"Madam von Thropp?"

She turned around. Gellert had been expecting a person of Bathilda's vintage – but here was a young woman of no more than thirty.

She laughed at his face in disbelief. "No!"

Right then, the _real _Madam Von Thropp swept in. "Ah – Mr Grindelwald. I have been most anxious to meet you since your first letter arrived three weeks ago!"

"Well," Gellert forced a laugh, "I could hardly intrude upon you over Christmas and New Year – not with so much to celebrate..."

"Oh, please," a slightly less middle-aged man chimed in, "What have we to celebrate? A couple of centuries of the muggle calendar being imposed upon us? Since when did we abandon the good old-fashioned measurements by the moon..."

_Since the time we realised that it takes 365.25 days for the earth to make a complete orbit of the sun_, thought Gellert.

"My younger brother, Commodus Romodanovsky," she introduced. Gellert bowed. "Now that's what I like to see – good, old-fashioned _manners_."

"Are you a pureblood, Mr Grindelwald?" asked Commodus.

"Half-blood, sir - muggle mother, who deserted my father and me when I was only five."

"The bitch," spat Commodus.

"But what can you expect?" sighed Madam von Thropp. "Those kinds of marriages should not be allowed. Or, they at least ought to have to seek permission from the Ministry."

"She destroyed my father – he was a great wizard once, now he hides in his library, sleeping fourteen hours a day," Gellert agreed with her. "It was particularly horrid when I was a child."

"I can imagine," said Madam von Thropp.

"Do you have any children of your own?" asked Gellert, looking at where the long-haired girl had been seated just moments earlier.

"I see you've met my fiancee, Perdita," said Commodus.

Gellert nodded, the jigsaw pieces sliding into place. He turned to Madam Thropp. "I was impressed by the popularity of your book – self-published, and yet it has sold over ten thousand copies?"

"That's right, you would be surprised – you and I are not alone in our ideas about the nobility of wizarding blood. I had a fair bit of help writing my book."

"From your brother?"

"No – he's not the reading or writing type. But there are societies scattered throughout Europe – pockets of people who want to promote our cause. You'd be surprised how well-organised they are. We even had our own circulation at one stage..."

"Circulation, you say? Would you happen to still have the distribution lists?"

**G.G. **

_Sleep is for the weak_, thought Gellert, creeping from his chamber at a quarter past two in the morning. There was always something more to explore in a grand old wizarding palace like this one.

He heard footsteps and quickly extinguished his wand and flattened himself up against the nearest wall.

"Look," called a female voice, "I don't care who you are, or what you've been doing, but could you please step aside, you're blocking the entrance to the secret passageway I want to get down..."

The bearer of a bright light rounded the corner, and Gellert could see a woman with waist-length brown hair, clad in a scandalously short, brick-red dressing-gown.

"What secret passage?" asked Gellert, who had managed to run a Revealing Charm in a matter of moments, and had found nothing.

"Oh, I was lying," said Perdita. "Just wanted to check that you weren't sleepwalking. There are no surprises in this house. I wish there were."

"So – a fellow midnight wanderer was not much of a surprise to you?"

"No," she said bluntly, not caring for explanations.

"But why would it matter if I was sleepwalking, then, if there are no dangers here?"

"Oh, be quiet."

She pushed past him far more roughly than he had expected. "Oi! Where _are_ you going in such a hurry?"

"Well, I've got a new book with me, and I'm going to settle somewhere in the North Wing with a very strong drink. So are you coming or not?"

"Er..." Gellert found himself at a loss for words. "Very well, then."

"Good. I hope you like Irish Cream. I have a secret recipe that I learnt from a girl at school. Can't let the house-elves make it because they'll tell Commodus, who thinks it's a waste of perfectly good Firewhiskey."

Gellert burst out laughing.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just...memories..."

"Come on, then!"

Gellert discerned that they were making their way to the nothernmost wing of the establishment. Gradually, the corridors became more and more cobweb-lined, the carpets on the floor faded to grey, the portrait-frames on the wall became entirely empty, and a chilly draught began to blow.

"Just - one - more - staircase," Perdita puffed.

It was made of wood, small, but intricately carved, and led, not to the roof, as Gellert feared, but to a grand tower. The marble floor-tiles were covered by animal-skin rugs, and framed, bare landscapes – from where the original occupants had escaped long ago – adorned the walls. But judging by how clean and neat the room generally was, he judged that Perdita was comparatively fonder of the place than most.

"From here, I can see where our grounds meet the forest," she said, settling herself into the wide window seat. Gellert, still wary, pulled up a chair.

"So what book did you come all the way up here to read?"

She showed him.

Gellert had never thought she would be the type to be interested in _raising unicorns_, of all things. "You came all the way up here to read _The Breeder's Digest_?"

"Of course not. It's just a cover. Oldest trick in the book. Excuse the pun." She let the dust jacket fall off, revealing a red-and-gold French title. _Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours_.

"You came all the way up here to read _Jules Verne_?"

"You are familiar with muggle literature, then? Tsk tsk, for someone who believes in wizarding superiority..."

"No," said Gellert, choosing his words carefully. "I was surprised a book like that would interest you. Travelling around the world in eighty days? _You _could do it in eighty seconds."

"I don't read it for _that_. I read it for the descriptions of places that I will never see, thanks to Commodus and his xenophobia. Egypt, India, Hong Kong, Japan...I used to know Europe like the back of my hand. England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales...le Portugal, l'Espagne, Andorre, la France...I could keep going West until we hit Turkey if you like."

The landscapes on the walls now made sense. "_Never _see? That seems a rather strong word...you've both got plenty of time...what are you, twenty-five? And Commodus is about thirty-five?"

"Wrong," she snickered. "I'm thirty-one. I look far younger than I actually am, as does Commodus – it comes about when you have little to do all day but pamper yourself. He'd be overjoyed that you thought him thirty-five though; he's very vain and _forty-nine_."

As soon as he had completed the subtraction in his head, Gellert was unable to stop himself, for this most certainly was _not_ a "match of minds" in any sense of the phrase. "How..."

"I was betrothed to him at fifteen," she said, matter-of-factly. "My parents were pragmatists – they knew they couldn't leave me much except my family name. And they're of the medieval belief that no respectable witch ought to work – her place is at home with her children. I'm technically the second wife; when Commodus was the age I am now, he eloped with a girl who turned out to have a number of skeletons in her closet – the biggest one being her parentage."

"Muggle-born, I take it?"

"How did you guess?" she swirled her glass. "No prizes. There was a scandal. Most witches wouldn't come anywhere near him after that. But his parents wanted heirs, and then they met my parents."

"Heirs?" Gellert made an obvious sweep of the room with his eyes.

She laughed. "My in-laws died before I turned seventeen. Ergo, none of us felt the need to acquiesce to their wishes when neither of us had any inclinations of the sort."

Gellert raised an eyebrow.

"We sleep in separate rooms," she said, raising an eyebrow back.

There would have been a time during which he would have taken that as an invitation to pounce, to pin her to the Grecian couch she was reclining on, but for some reason, _he _felt no inclinations of the sort.

"Did you wonder why we're perpetually engaged? He's virtually married to his sister already, and I can't say I believe in that instituation either. You know what they say – _marriage is an institution of love, and love is blind, therefore marriage is an institution for the blind_."

"But...your parents..."

"Dead. Don't be sorry," she said quickly, "Those obsessed with the purity of blood are destined to die young. You'll probably outlive me by about thirty years."

She sipped her drink. "Even my name mocks me. _Perdita_. The lost one. Not a soul in the world...and what about you?"

It caught him off-guard. "Me? Alone? How could I possibly feel alone when I am constantly graced by your hospitality..."

"Shut it," she said, and Gellert was fleetingly reminded of Delta Hitchens.

_Where were they now_?

"You know what I mean."

"I have a father," he said.

"A father whom you spend every dinnertime denouncing. I've told you a set of truths that would have me thrown into the dungeons of this abode – and I have seen them once – and I should never like to see them again."

"I have...well, I thought I had...there was someone...but I think...I think I broke hi...their...heart...a long time ago..."

She'd caught the slip of his tongue – the pronoun that gave it all away – but she didn't seem to care.

"I'm married to an incestuous lunatic; what's a bit of sodomy here and there?"

"You sure you're not Delta Hitchens in disguise?" he asked jokingly.

She stood up and walked over to him, looking straight into his eyes.

"I'd – know – those – green – and – blue – eyes – anywhere," she said, folding her arms.

And his heart skipped a beat.

He began to do rapid maths in his head. Delta _would _be the same age as Albus – twenty-four – or she _should _be – perhaps he had underestimated her and she had been dabbling with time – _could _she _somehow _have...or "Perdita" could simply be lying about her age, it wasn't that difficult, she looked far too young to be a year older than he was...

It was all there...

...the laugh...

...the French...

...even the Quidditch fixation...

...the airs...

...the same aura of confidence concealing a core far from solid...

"Never heard of her – him – her?" said Perdita. "Trying to avoid assumptions here if I can help it!"

"She was an old friend," said Gellert. "As I hope we will become."

Perdita looked as if she had something to add, or a question to ask, before simply raising her glass. "To friendship."

"To platonic love, the most sacred form of affection."

"To armchair travellers."

"To good books."

"Vive la revolution!"

"Ad infinitum et…"

"Oh hush; now you're just showing off..."

**G.G.**

Commodus tossed the parchment onto the table. "Victoria has all but rotted away in her grave. Her son is weak. The British muggles are still licking their wounds from the wars in Africa. Never has there been a better time to strike..."

"No," said Gellert. "Not Britain. Not yet."

"Why?"

"I have contacts in Britain, and they have told me that this is not a good time." He was _trying_ to make contact with Albus, as he didn't want their first meeting since the death to be when he and his followers invaded. At the moment, neither their quantity nor quality was impressive.

"The Russian muggle peasants are revolting," remarked a thin wizard named Konstantin.

"I know, I can smell them from here," said Commodus.

"They'll wipe themselves out without our assistance," said Gellert hastily, before Commodus could put his other foot in his mouth.

"What about the United States?" someone else put forth.

"No – there are too many wizards there who would defend the muggles at a moment's notice. And America is so vast – we cannot hope to defeat them all at once. Perhaps – a better method would be to play them against each other- like two chessmasters pit their pawns against each other, but keep their Kings and Queens safely behind to begin with."

**G.G.**

"You coward," accused Perdita, coming out from beneath the Invisibility Cloak now that the dozen or so men had left the room.

"Well, pardon me for being careful," Gellert snapped.

"I think you've taken the chess metaphor too far."

He ignored her.

"_We shall have to cheat if we wish to avoid a stalemate_, in your language," she sneered.

"Oh shut up! Don't pretend you've got some better ideas...or do you?"

"Well if you don't know how to do it, then how should I know?" she clucked her tongue. "You're supposed to be the mastermind here."

**G.G.**

_So he took his wings and fled:  
Then the morn blush'd rosy red:  
I dried my tears and arm'd my fears  
With ten thousand shields and spears._

_Soon my Angel came again:  
I was arm'd, he came in vain:  
For the time of youth was fled  
And grey hairs were on my head._

_(William Blake)_

_You are back in Bathilda's garden, aged seventeen again. _

"_Preferred method of taking over the world? Hypothetically – assuming we leave all scruples behind."_

"_Diplomacy," says Albus._

"_That doesn't count."_

"_What _would_ count, then?"_

"_A combination of brains and brawn." You turn to Kitty. "And – what about you? You've been awfully quiet today..."_

_She coughs, and mumbles something that sounds like "sickness". She's been most frustrating lately; the hormones have evidently gotten to her head, preventing her from saying anything useful. Albus – he's a different matter altogether – with every kiss he seems more energetic, more creative, more..._

"_Oh, you poor little creature," you say, going over to the child and holding her hand. "The middle of summer – how inconvenient to fall ill."_

"_I'm fine, thank you. What I meant to say," She clears her throat and looks straight into your eyes, "is that I'd consume them from the inside out. Cripple their hospitals with some sort of sickness. You should hear my father these days – the muggles think there'll be a cure for everything within the next fifty years, and that we can expect to live to two hundred..."_

_Albus chuckles. "But even wizards seldom live more than a century and a half."_

_Your response is, "It's quite an idea, though…" _

"_What, living for two hundred years?"_

_It's the cleverest thing Kitty has said yet – lucky for her, since you've found yourself questioning why on earth you and Albus need someone like her – only having the Prophecy for justification…_

"_No – putting them out of action with some kind of malady. Fill the hospitals up with the young and able, leaving only the senior citizens and the infants to defend their world..."_

"_Oh but it wouldn't work – just as none of us are susceptible to cholera, consumption, scarlet fever or typhoid, muggles can't get Spattergroit, Scrofungulus, Dragon Pox, Dragon Flu..."_

"_Oh, relax Kitty, it's only a hypothetical."_

**G.G.**

"It could take ten years," said Gellert bluntly. "We have a mammoth task ahead, you and I. While Dragon Flu is well-known to wizardkind, the muggle viral equivalent...I do not even know if the muggles know what viruses are. Where to start? How will we make a wizarding virus able to infect muggles, but not affect wizards at all? How can we protect ourselves in the first place?"

"Send us to Romania."

"_Romania_?"

"The largest Dragon Sanctuary in Europe! Wouldn't it be a good place to start...experimenting? Just send Commodus there. He'll find ways of amusing himself. You know what they say about 'real men and dragons'..."

"And how on earth will I get _you_ there? How on earth will Madam let you accompany us on 'men's business'?"

It mattered, now, that Perdita was able to come along with him.

"How should I know? You talk to Tiberia. She adores you – she's practically adopted you – and Commodus is slightly afraid of you."

"Well, I must say, it would be slightly more comfortable stowing away in a trunk."

Perdita threw back her head, shoulders shaking with laughter. "And I suppose you could somehow elaborately Confund Tiberia as well..."

"No!" said Gellert, now serious. "I have a trunk in my possession that can hold – oh never mind, let me _show _you. I'll wager you'll be rather impressed..."

* * *

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_**A/N: **_

_**Firstly, I need to thank Suzanne (WTF), for so kindly beta-ing the first chapter of fanfic I've written in months (you and your memory are truly awesome). Secondly, I need to thank my loyal readers and reviewers who've stuck with me in spite of my extended hiatus, especially **_PikaNecoMico, chair-chan, deeps85, Morning. xx, and, most of all, Robbie the Phoenix - who went through and reviewed pretty much EVERY chapter! - _**whose reviews I pretty much ignored.**_**_(Also - a special shot-out to _**Dr Shanty**_, who, way back in March, asked me so nicely to please continue this story. How could I say "no" when I had a sad, sad panda at stake?) _**

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_**Hopefully the original "flavour" of Tempus hasn't been completely lost; Gellert's chapters are meant to feel a little different, but this is because for the first time you're getting a mature (dare I say "adult"?) voice, and we've truly left the familiar realms of Hogwarts behind. I think as you get older, you have a slightly different perception of "time"…**_

_**As for the next chapter – let me just give you four clues as a kind of apology for being offline for a good six months:**_

_**1. There are no happily married people in my story. True or false? You'll find out in the next chapter!****  
2. Dragons in Romania  
3. Magical Pharmacotherapy**_


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